A Touch of the Divine
by becuzitswrong
Summary: Taylor comes to the attention of an ancient god, who passes on a mantle of power to her, which she must slowly grow into. Neither priest nor paladin, she is instead the Avatar of a god as old as the universe, imbued with a Touch of the Divine.
1. Chapter One: Salvation

**Chapter One: Salvation**

~~~~ATotD~~~~

On a mountaintop, the Dark God of Morning bore his pain like a badge of honor. Above him, the world grew dim as great clouds of soot and ash rose high into the stratosphere until finally cut off by the edges of the atmosphere itself. Even now, great stones fell upon the earth, one such rock striking him and immediately shattering.

He bore the impact stoically, even as his anguish drove him nearly mad.

His voice full of rage and pain, he called out into the aether, "Why? Why have you done this?" And then, ″ _I will destroy you all!_ ″

This last was said in a howl, his voice rising above the storm, as if to reach beyond the clouds above to those Entities that lurked there. He could sense their satisfaction at his pain, and hatred touched him for the first time. He'd nurtured his children for so long, the spark of the divine he'd placed within them finally coming to fruition after these endless eons, only to lose them when they were close to growing into their potential.

It seemed but a moment ago when he had touched a series of tiny creatures whose dull minds seemed ill suited to any possibility of growth and development. But the spark he had placed there had, over time, slowly nurtured that intellect. Offshoots had diminished and ultimately perished, but the main line had remained true. As giants grew to roam the earth, they had stayed smaller, but with that size, cooperation and a sense of unity had bound them.

Along with that unity, intellect had slowly developed, and if it was a cold one, still it flourished. But warmth would have come, perhaps in a few dozen more millennia, or if not then, then in a hundred times that time frame. But it would have come in the end.

In the meantime, these children of his had erected a city, living in close proximity to one another, even as they used their sense of cooperation to hunt their larger, more individually dangerous cousins. Over time, as he had made contact with them, they had come to worship him. The power from that worship had grown, filling him with so much of the Divine that Balsagoth had overflowed with it.

Not that it was truly worship he sought. No, it was more to fill the gnawing loneliness of endless time alone that he had created his children, nurtured them, so that one day they could take their places next to him, making the long years ahead something to look forward to instead of something to fear.

Into this situation had come the Others, beings also brimming with the Divine, having arisen with the creation of the world, just as he had. At first, he'd welcomed them, these visitors from parallel realities, as they brought surcease to that loneliness that he had tried for so long to ease. On the surface, they seemed also to welcome knowledge of his existence.

For a time, they had danced around one another, Balsagoth and these others who so intrigued him. They had communicated ideas of friendship and alliance, learning and teaching in equal measure. But they turned out to not be friends or allies, sneaking behind his back to try to seduce his children from the Way. That they had failed mattered not.

Although it was that very lack of success that had led to this day. The Others had executed a plan whose culmination involved an immense rock from the outer depths of the solar system being lured off course, targeted upon those who were his. When the asteroid had impacted the world, it had been like a bolt of lightning racing down the very depths of his being. He had _known_ what was happening, albeit too late to stop it.

The great burning crater stretched far across the peninsula and out into the waters of the gulf, immensely deep. The tiny handful of scattered sparks that remained had winked out even as Balsagoth sought them out, trying to preserve at least a handful. But it had been in vain as the last were extinguished long before he reached them, the heat and pressure far too great for mere mortal life to bear

Of course he knew what the next step would be. Gathering the terrible energies of a Child of the Elder Earth around him, Balsagoth prepared himself for battle. He'd never forged weapons of war or destruction, never seeing the necessity when he was the only one. Instead of a warrior, he had always been a shepherd. Now he longed for something with which to destroy his enemies rather than the simple staff he'd created in the Beginning. Still, Umrahnuha would have to suffice.

Taking his staff in hand, Balsagoth rose upon the winds of fate to do battle against his enemies. Today might mean his end, but that was something with which he could make peace with should he be able to take his enemies with him.

The terrible battle raged on for endless days, as prodigious powers were expended on both sides, making the earth beneath tremble. The clangor of was far louder and more intense than even the lingering traces of the great impact that had shattered the earth miles below. As creatures as old as the very universe that had spawned them waged war, they traveled across other worlds and realities, scourging them free of life. Death came to trillions and still the battle went on. Divine energies were released until the very walls of reality trembled. Until, at last, those energies began to dwindle as their wielders grew weary.

It was in that moment that the battle ceased, as the many overcame the one. It was a Pyrrhic victory as the cost had been too great. Despair rode the cosmic winds as beings in every reality wept for what had been lost. Every being but one.

Balsagoth shook the metaphysical chains of his prison. He felt bitter satisfaction that none of his foes would benefit from the cleansing of his world, or his own imprisonment. Their own peoples, so long hidden away, had perished during the Great Combat, as he pitted his own Divinity against theirs. The sheer number of worlds that had been devastated and depopulated rose into the tens of thousands, but he only regretted the loss of one.

After all, it was the Others who had sought him out. Who had invaded his world, attempting to seduce with words of friendship and welcome, even as they planned his demise. So he had destroyed them, ultimately reaching out and using the very fires of the stars themselves to scourge his foes' worlds clean of life as he attempted to to snatch a form of victory from defeat. Or perhaps all that he had accomplished was mere vengeance. Not that it mattered to the trillions who had died.

Because the Others would not perish immediately. No, they would continue to exist in a sense, if vastly diminished through their final use of Power to create the prison and bonds with which they had bound him. Their sacrifice to bind him would ultimately prove to be their undoing. Without worshipers, they would never grow stronger, or heal, and eventually would fade into nothingness, their stories lost to time.

Balsagoth no longer fought his bonds. Instead, he would conserve his Divine might. He might be bound for millions of cycles, until such time as the tiny Spark that he had hidden upon the opposite side of the world flowered anew. It was the final part of a many tiered plan that he had executed even as he fought. Almost he touched Prophecy so that he might know if he were ultimately successful, but it the end, chose ignorance over the risk of guttering like a candle in the winds of time. The energy required to bridge such a gap was simply to great for him, reduced as he now was.

Instead, he rested, as stone by stone, the Others sealed his prison. Lambent eyes glowed with brooding satisfaction in a face seemingly carved from obsidian as he contemplated their demise and his own ultimate triumph. He would one day be free from this prison. Whether the world he emerged into would be worthy of him remained to be seen. Regardless, he would continue on, for tenacity was at the core of his being.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Ages passed. Untold millions of years. Continents changed, ocean levels rose and fell. Great sheets of ice covered the world, then receded over time. Species arose, lived, and died, swept away upon the sands of time. Many, many things changed, even as others remained the same.

In the fullness of time, a dominant species once more arose upon the Earth. More intelligent than any other that the Earth had nurtured in past eons, it flourished and rapidly spread all across the globe. Technologically savvy, it soon was harnessing the power of wind and water, then that of the vast lakes of fossil fuels that lurked within the world. Finally, it reached out for the power to split the atom and mastered this as well, even if only mostly.

After all, there was a spark of the divine within them. Although they did not know it, there existed within themselves something that was greater than that of the mere animals around them. Religions rose to answer the questions that they had about what happened to them after their physical bodies perished. No answers ever truly came, but the questions remained, as troubled minds sought in futility.

A short time later, the second greatest event in their short history happened to this species upon a green planet circling a small yellow star. They were discovered by two members of a species which had a long history of seeking answers. Unfortunately the questions they sought answers for were ones which would have far reaching consequences to the dominant species of this world. Consequences which would ultimately prove fatal if nothing else changed.

But in this, as in all things, fate, kismet, call it what you will, reached out skeletal fingers to stir the pot. One of the two members of the questioners perished upon contact, while the other fell into depression and pain. Still, parts of their plan to find answers were enacted and billions of shards of their very being were spread far and wide across the world.

One such shard brought forth powers of invention from a member of the dominant species. That inventor harnessed this power, and using it, reached out and tore asunder the walls of reality, touching another running on a parallel track and leaving a hole there. A gap bridging realities that no one else could close.

The inventor also, though he didn't know it, weakened the walls of a prison that had been crafted more than sixty-five million years before by a group of Entities who even the questioners might have avoided if they had know about them. But those Entities were long gone, the one for whom they'd crafted the prison weakened by the river of time.

The being known as Balsagoth might never have broken free if not for a human melded with the shard of what one might describe as an immense space whale, although that description fell far short of what they truly were. Still, he _did_ break free.

It was a year that described as occurring two thousand and ten after the supposed birth of the savior of one of the dominant religious groups. It was a season when the northern hemisphere of the world was tilted away from its star, reducing solar radiation, and allowing snow to fall upon many parts of that same hemisphere. It was a day that fell just a few short of the one that celebrated the birth of that selfsame savior.

That was the day when the walls of a prison formed all those years before finally fell. Upon that day, Balsagoth was free.

And the world trembled.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Free! Free at last!

Balsagoth reveled in his freedom as he rose upon powerful hind legs and roared his defiance to the skies!

 **"Rrrroooooooaaaaarrrrrr!"**

The sound echoed across the peaks of a vast mountain range that was far south of the former home of the beings who had once worshiped him.

But those beings were dust eons ago, and Balsagoth lived once more. He took in a lungful of bitterly cold air, savoring the taste of something untainted by the destruction of those who were his. Then turning immaterial, he rose like smoke into the skies to investigate this new world.

To begin, he traveled to that region that had been home to his deceased worshipers, but found nothing of familiarity there. The vast crater had filled in and the altered coastline left him feeling oddly shaken. He stopped for a moment to briefly mourn their passing before he moved on. They had been cold worshipers, but with the spark of the Divine within them, they might have one day grown into what he so desired. Still, to dwell upon their passing was a moot point. They were gone, the few descendants that still existed not containing even remnants of the Spark that he'd placed within them so long ago.

Discarding the past, he decided to survey this strange new future. Assuming his immaterial form again, Balsagoth rose into the air and began a slow spiral around the world, covering ground far faster than any material being as he surveyed what had happened in the eons while he had slept.

He touched the minds of both the sleeping and awake, and carefully tasted their dreams and memories. Over the next few hours, he took from them many of their languages as well as a sense of who and what they were, both the good and the bad. He watched their actions and accomplishments, what they wanted and what they hoped for, both for themselves and their children. Over time, he discovered that these humans, these beings who had arisen to dominant this world, riding the spark of the Divine he had placed within their ancestors so long ago, far more resembled what he'd yearned to create so long ago. Much more than their reptilian antecedents ever had.

Balsagoth truly believed that one day he would no longer dwell alone, but instead with his children, ascended from these primitive humans. But for that to happen, he would need to be patient and while he waited, grow strong.

The plan he concocted was simple. He would choose a champion from among these humans, someone to represent him. Searching the tongues of humanity, Balsagoth discarded terms which did not apply. Neither a priest nor a paladin did he seek. Rather... ahh, there it was. Avatar. That was who he sought. An Avatar that would be his Divine representative, allowing him to gain a foothold in their cultures. Over time, that champion would draw worshipers to him until he rose unto heights of power that could only have been imagined in eons past.

First, though, he would need to decide what Gifts to give his champion. As greatly diminished as he was, he could not imbue them with too much of his power ere he perish. So he would need to choose wisely. That meant risking Prophecy. However, if he did not, he would doom himself to slowly fade away until he was less than a ghost.

For some time Balsagoth pondered plans. Gifts his Champion would need, and how they would use them. It was then that something impinged upon his consciousness. Something strange. Something Other. More alien than even the Entities all those years ago.

Rising into the air, he surveyed the world, marveling anew at the gift he'd been given of this new existence. That these humans that had arisen from that one small Spark all of those eons ago was fortuitous. They were wonderful and would be perfect for his plans in the days ahead.

But if they were, what then was that sense of wrongness he felt, like some poorly tuned instrument attempting to execute the grandest of rhapsodies? Something dwelt here that should not be and Balsagoth searched for it without surcease.

Now that he was seeking it, he found evidence of its existence scattered all around the world, fragments of something whose wrongness reeked of a subtle sense of rot, of the darkness of the void. All too many of these fragments were bonded with humans. Staring at one such creature, Balsagoth noted that the being, this... human, was overlaid by strangeness, their own brightness distorted as if viewed through smoked glass. The alien presence's tendrils touched all parts of the human's mind and body, affecting it in myriad ways, although he wasn't sure exactly of the method. Their existence was so repugnant to him that he would never accept one as a worshiper. No, they were all in ways the Lost.

However, as strange and alien as these pieces and their hosts were, they weren't the source, instead being mere symptoms of this disease. So he searched further and further afield.

It took more time and distance traveled to find it than he'd imagined, a full day and circling the world twice. The source proved to be elusive. But in the end, he tracked the source down to a golden figure flying over the largest of the bodies of water upon the world heading for a distant conflagration.

Its hideousness filled him with a sense of disgust, that so horrid a creature should even exist. For he could see past its surface appearance to the strands that connected it to a vaster Other that lay in another reality, hidden from the view of those who only saw by the wavelengths of visible light.

For a time, Balsagoth followed the Other at a distance, increasingly wary for it was every bit as powerful as it was horrifying, trying to discern its purpose. From those it encountered, he learned that it was known by the name Scion to the inhabitants of this world and that they believed it to be one of their own. To the humans, it was a hero and the mightiest of a group known as Parahumans. It was also faintly connected to every piece of itself that lay scattered over the world.

Now that he knew to look for them, he could feel just how many pieces of the thing were scattered all over the world. Pieces connected both to it, and to other realities where the greater bulk of those pieces dwelled. Present here were merely the connections that it used to infest its hosts. He soon learned exactly what kind of host these connections sought.

It was in the aftermath of a volcanic eruption upon a chain of islands in a vast ocean that Balsagoth saw a connection formed for the first time. He'd followed the Abomination, refusing to even think of it by the name these humans called it,, while it played at helping those who were injured. It wasn't long after that he spotted something that filled him with rage.

A human youth lay dying, pinned by a mass of plant matter that smoked and smoldered, injured and alone. As Balsagoth watched, he could feel the stealthy approach of one such piece. The connection seemed to consider the child, then like a predator, leaped upon it, and became one with it. The result healed the child, but what rose up was no longer human. Neither was it a member of the Abomination's own race, but rather some bastardized experiment.

He did not understand what was the Abomination's purpose for doing this. The results were clear, however. The child now possessed a strange affinity for thermal radiation, able to shape it in ways that the rest of humanity could not. There was also some form of mental manipulation going on, something that focused upon creating... conflict? Perhaps. Regardless, it was not a benefit to the species he had willed into being so long ago.

Almost, he drew Umrahnuha and slew it. His staff would account for such as this. But to do so would expose his presence to the Abomination. That one, he could not overcome. Perhaps when he was at the peak of his strength all those turns ago he could have defeated it. Perhaps. But now, he would be unable to stand against it.

Balsagoth returned to the one responsible for all of this, pondering the enigma of the Abomination. Slowly, he circled the other, while maintaining his distance, all the while probing for information. But it was a conundrum. Cloaked in shadows, its motivations hidden, he could not discern its true purpose. The only thing he could see were the trails descending through the dimensional barriers, as if only a piece of the creature were here. Not that he had the strength to follow those trails as he'd once had.

But neither could it sense him. Less than a ghost, Balsagoth rode the winds, paralleling Scion's flight, while still staying at a distance. He would need to figure out another path to victory. Something other than brute force.

As he considered the matter, brooding darkness twisting his features, an idea arose within him. Yes, that would work. That would work quite well. Now to find the Champion to represent him in the contest with the Abomination. Because contest it would now be, rather than the seduction he'd originally planned.

In the days that followed, Balsagoth sought high and low for one who would be his Champion, his Avatar, to represent him in the great struggle against the invader. He needed certain qualities. First, they must be strong of will. But not so strong that they refused his counsel as he whispered subtlely in their dreams while they slept.

Second, they must be someone who considered things, not just someone who sprang into action based purely upon emotion. Not too cold, for that would not serve him here, but rather possessing a strong sense of self-control.

Third, they must understand subtlety, for therein lay the path to victory. Whether cruel or kind, violent or gentle, so long as they understood the nuance in all things, they could be led to victory.

Fourth, they must be young, for only in naivete of youth could hope and belief be twisted with lies and misdirection. Too old and they would refuse to believe, their mind descending into madness rather than worship. And make no bones about it, he sought worshipers who would return him to the pinnacle of his strength so that he could contest with the Abomination directly. But to get there, he needed to progress along a path that they broke.

Lastly, they needed to live in an environment conducive to his cause. One where hope and joy had been crushed under the boot of harsh necessity, but not completely eradicated. Such a place could be used as a lever into humanity's consciousness, bringing them to him as they sought what had been taken from them. A Champion there would be infinitely more effective than one where everyone lived lives of safety and ease.

All of those things and more Balsagoth found in a small city on the eastern coast of the large land mass the humans called North America. It, and much of the area surrounding it stretching all the way to the opposite, belonged to one of the most technologically savvy of the tribes that existed upon this world. One known as the United States.

The city was a combat zone for Parahuman strife as the Lost fought one another for rulership of the city. Here, there were suitable children aplenty. But it was one, a girl child who most intrigued him. Subtle and cruel, she had been forged by adversity into something that could suit his purpose. Here Prophecy served him well as he could feel her potential for greatness.

Standing invisible within her home, Balsagoth studied her, this being whose designation was Emma Barnes. Eyes hard and critical, he contemplated how he would put her to use. Aesthetically pleasing to these humans, he could see how she would draw others to her with both her appearance and force of personality. That would suit him, as charisma was one of the attributes he sought allowing her to influence others.

Determination and fortitude were others. Balsagoth watched, feeling disgruntled as the girl frittered away an entire day, doing nothing. Because he would need to study her carefully, he decided to stay nearby for the next few days to see if she would suit.

It was because of that that he discovered her relationship with one of the Lost. This girl, whose surface appearance was diametrically opposite Emma's, was alike in all the ways that mattered, sharing the same subtle cruelty. But she had been bonded with a piece of the Abomination, so she utterly useless to his plans.

That she was close to Emma, reduced the girl's utility for his purposes. However, before he dismissed her and sought another candidate entirely, Balsagoth decided to study her just a bit longer. In the end, it was how he found the One.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The next day, Balsagoth followed Emma to the structure whose purpose escaped him at first. Discovering that it was intended to facilitate learning amused him. He already understood humanity well enough to know that the distractions and social pressures of school made it ill suited for its intended purpose. He dismissed it all as unimportant. After all, what he sought to discover had little to do with how well the girl retained information and everything with how well she handled adversity, bouncing back from the cruel vagaries of destiny.

He watched as Emma interacted with those around her. A queen among her followers, they jostled to find favor with her. All but one, that is.

He found himself vaguely intrigued by the... mouse, yes that was right in this time. The mouse that scurried around the cats that stalked with Emma.

It took little effort to learn that the mouse's designation was Taylor Hebert, it being said in tones ranging from hushed whispers to piercing cries. The mouse ignored them all, as it did the insults heaped upon it. There was a quiet desperation there that drew Balsagoth, as he waited for the frail human's demise.

But this Taylor persevered, even as she was tripped and pushed, made unwelcome in ever more obvious ways. The cruelty of the various insults was lost upon Balsagoth, but he saw their effectiveness in the girl's hunched shoulders and aching sense of loss, even as she pretended studied indifference. When she finally escaped into one of the rooms presided over by an adult, he found himself amused by her lack of understanding of her role in the world.

After all, there were always those who were different from the rest of a herd, of a species. Those whom the others there singled out for isolation, and oftentimes destruction. This Taylor Hebert was one such ostracized being, albeit one who still fought her fate, railing against destruction.

The next day went similarly, as Emma and her coterie attempted again and again to drive the one that was different from their group. Again and again, the one known as Taylor Hebert resisted those attempts.

Almost, Balsagoth admired her. Such blind determination could be extremely useful if properly applied. However, in such a lost cause, he found himself unable to maintain any sense of respect for it as the foolish creature refused to recognize reality. After all, one could never succeed in winning against so many, especially led by such a charismatic leader.

Still, it was Taylor that he followed home that day, observing her interactions with the male human whose designation was 'Dad'. He read her dreams as she soared as a hero and defeated villains whose features resembled the trio that most tormented her. He continued to watch as she rose from her sleep and once again headed to face her adversaries.

Seeking a reading of the future, Balsagoth manipulated his own Divinity to touch Prophecy. Images assailed him and his teeth clenched. What was this girl that the future trembled at her coming? Should he eliminate her now and forestall the future he saw? Or should he subsume her and make her his own? Troubled, he drifted with the wind as the sands of time continued their relentless march.

It was two more revolutions of the world that found Balsagoth floating high above the earth, feeling strangely indecisive. It wasn't an easy decision to choose his champion, but neither should it be this difficult. Emma Barnes was a good choice, able to accomplish much, especially were he to eliminate both her greatest opposition and greatest distraction now. But upon further consideration, he dismissed her utterly, his thoughts returning to a different girl entirely.

Deciding to take another look at the Abomination while he considered his choice, Balsagoth traveled thousands of miles in an instant. There he stared down upon the Abomination as it stopped a localized weather phenomena known as a tornado.

Deliberately circling the foul creature, he felt his disgust and hatred grow. Following an inward spiral, Balsagoth watched as it gestured and moved. Soon he revolved slowly around it just out of arm's touch, wanting to strike out at it. Then he stopped, cursing himself for his foolishness.

He was no match for the Abomination. Perhaps in the future he would be able to drive it forth, but for now, he had to stay away until he grew much, much stronger. At least the creature didn't know of his own existence, now would he until it was too late, he thought in satisfaction.

Turning to move away, Balsagoth found himself motionless. Turning to face his foe, he met alien eyes, seeing the awareness of his presence there, studying him, as if to weigh the threat that he represented.

How had the Abomination detected him? Was it because he had grown careless and come too close? Or had his hatred and contempt been so intense that it pierced the veil of reality and impinged upon its consciousness? Regardless, it knew he was here now and he was unable to escape its grasp.

Slowly, golden light seemed to emanate from within the figure, reaching out towards Balsagoth. He didn't know what this strange power was, only having observed it once before, but felt that it likely spelled his doom.

Lifting Umrahnuha, Balsagoth used the guttering remnants of Divine Might to strike out at the Abomination as the staff easily parted the golden light. The Fires of Creation tore deeply into the Abomination's breast as he twisted those energies back and forth, sawing the horror nearly in half. An agonizing scream erupted from the other as it was forced into a confrontation with its place in existence, while the golden light vanished. As did the strange effect that had frozen Balsagoth in place.

Racing away, the Dark God of Mourning exulted. He had struck a blow against the Abomination and injured it. The power he had used would linger and fester within its consciousness.. Balsagoth wasn't sure that even if he had been at the peak of his power, he could have slain the creature, but it had surely been weakened.

Unfortunately, it had not been weakened enough. Even now, he could feel it pursuing him, torrents of golden light pouring from within its form. He would have but a short time until it overtook him and he likely perished.

Should he save his strength for the battle, or try to aid these humans who were the children he had so long awaited? Indecisiveness faded as Balsagoth made a decision, deciding to entrust these humans with the future of the world

He would Gift his champion with Healing to allow them to help other as well as themselves. To strengthen their martial abilities, he would give them the Gift of Lightning, able to call down torrents of energy from empty skies. But they would need so much more than just these two minor abilities.

Balsagoth contemplated gifts of Strength or Speed, Endurance or Flight, but none seemed enough. His Champion would soon perish in this strange, violent world if all they had was only such limited abilities. No, he would need to give them more, something greater than all of these.

So Balsagoth pulled a Spark of the Divine from with him and held it in one scaled hand. There in his hand, he could feel its radiance and beauty beating against him, even as he grew significantly weaker. Bringing it to this lips, Balsagoth whispered one word, "Grace." Feeling it take hold in the spark, he bound it to the shaft of Umrahnuha, and cast the staff into the void.

It would find the Champion he had chosen. Once the staff rested in their hands, they would be imbued with Grace, Healing, and Lightning, while the Spark of Divinity within them would slowly expand and grow the more they strove against the chains that Destiny would try to place upon them. Eventually, they would rise to battle even the Abomination with a more or less even chance of succeeding.

Feeling his enemy's presence at his back, Balsagoth spun to confront the Abomination. He drew a different weapon stolen from those Others so long ago and prepared to do battle. At his shoulder, Fate glowered, and he knew he would not survive this battle, weakened as he was far past his ability to sustain himself. _So be it._

Beating bat-like wings as ebony as his body, Balsagoth moved to once again battle for his world.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

In a simple house on a working class street in a small city on the eastern coast of one of the larger landmasses of the world, a girl slept in a bed, soft and warm. Around her lay the mementos of time past, each precious in some way, photos and other scraps representing memories. Within the girl, lay dreams as myriad and scattered as the items around her room.

For one moment, the girl dreamed of being Alexandria, a hero far above all others. In another, she was popular, surrounded by a flock of friends who loved her. In yet another, she was wife and mother, with children of her own and a husband who loved her dearly.

It was towards this bedroom that an object of power plummeted, guided by Divinity and Will from a being long dead. It had traveled from the far side of reality at a velocity that its inhabitants would have found mindbogglingly. Now the object had found its new master and arrived in a blaze of light as it plunged into the floor by the girl's bed.

There it lay quiescent as the girl slept on, ready to be discovered upon the morrow.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the light inside of her room. Had she overslept? Then her mind cleared and she remembered that school had ended three days before, on the seventeenth of December. She would not need to go back until Monday, January third, giving her just over two weeks at home. Two weeks away from the bullying.

Not that it had been that bad of late. Even Sophia, the most physically overt of her bullies seemed to be easing up on her, while Emma and Madison had barely done more than insult her of late. It was a hopeful sign, indicating that her determination had finally outlasted that of the people who had done their best for the last year and a half to make her life miserable.

Vaguely, Taylor could hear her dad moving around downstairs. He was probably making breakfast before heading to work. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be getting any extra time off for Christmas since it fell on a Saturday this year. Instead, Danny Hebert would work all the way up until noon on Christmas Eve to try to find work for the men he represented in the Dockworkers Union.

Sometimes, Taylor felt the futility of the work that her dad had dedicated his life to. She felt doubts, on more than one occasion, that her dad would ever make a difference. Instead, he was more like Don Quixote, tilting at imaginary monsters who turned out only to be windmills in reality. Her dad's adversaries weren't actually imaginary, but he had no more chance of defeating them than a man who could not distinguish reality from fantasy.

Sighing, Taylor sat up in bed and swung her feet over the edge. Getting to her feet, she stretched, yawning hugely. She grabbed her glasses off the bedside table and put them on, then headed towards the door. Hopefully, Dad had made something other than oatmeal this morning, she thought. It would be nice to have bacon and eggs, or even French toast for once-

″Ouch! Owie owie ouch!″

Taylor slammed into the floor just a couple of feet away from her door, having tripped over something on the floor. Air whooshed from her lungs, and she lay there a moment, stunned, her knee throbbing from the impact. What the hell, she wondered, her thoughts worked furiously. What had she just tripped over?

Slowly, she rolled over onto her back and sat up, rubbing her knee where she'd banged it against something. Looking back over past her feet, she froze at the sight that greeted her. A staff lay embedded into the floor just in front of her bed, directly in her path to her bedroom door.

To her inexperienced eyes, it looked like something straight out of the book she'd read the evening before. The staff's shaft was a flat black in color, looking as if it somehow swallowed most of the light that touched it, while scattering the rest. Strange crimson runes or glyphs ran along its entire visible length, winding round and round, seeming to glow faintly in the dim light of her bedroom. The staff was more than five inches thick, and more than five feet of its total length rose from the floor, making her wonder at the amount hidden.

Sitting atop the staff was a long, slender crystal, nine inches long and just over a third of that thick, one that appeared to be both clear and occluded at the same time, pulsing with a pale inner light. It's jagged facets were held in the jaws of some strange beast, all ferocious teeth and wide agape jaws. The beast's eyes, chips of a similar material, seemed to stare back into Taylor's, feeling eerily aware.

Where had the staff come from? How had it ended up buried in the floor of her bedroom? What was it made of? These were all questions for which Taylor didn't have even the beginnings of answers.

The staff's heroic proportions were clearly suited for someone a great deal larger than Taylor. She would barely be able to hold it, and her fingers would certainly not close around its girth. As it was, it was nearly as tall as she was, and there was no knowing how much was buried from view, likely protruding out into the room below. Since that room was the living room, she was surprised that her dad hadn't noticed it hanging down from the ceiling when he got up to make breakfast.

Taylor had banged her knee and caught her foot on it, somehow missing seeing something that big in the dim light of her bedroom. To be honest, she didn't know whether to be more embarrassed or frightened at what had happened. After all, something like this appearing in front of a person wasn't normal. She should probably tell her dad about it right away.

Taylor startled at a knock on her bedroom door. "Taylor, are you up? I made breakfast. I'm going to head to work now."

Scrambling to her feet, Taylor pulled open the door to her room to reveal the startled face of her dad. Thinning grey hair framed a pale, tired face, but the smile that stretched the corners of his mouth made laughter lines appear by his eyes. All in all, it was the face of someone who had been knocked down by life, but who refused to acknowledge that he'd been beaten, getting up as many times as he needed to.

Taylor lunged into her dad's arms after a backwards glance behind her at the staff. Hugging him desperately, she waited for him to comment about what was sticking up from her floor. Instead, he hugged her back, then asked, "Something wrong, kiddo? You seem kind of down."

How did he not see the staff, Taylor wondered? It was huge! The failure left her desperately searching for something innocuous to say. What came out was, "I saw a big bug!"

Pushing her out to arm's length, Danny made a show of peering into her room. After a moment, in a voice full of humor, he said, "Well, I don't see one now. Why don't you go down and have some breakfast. I mostly cleaned up already, but if you wouldn't mind washing your plate and what's left?"

Taylor nodded jerkily. "I'll do it. Thanks, Dad."

Leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the forehead, Danny said, "You're welcome, kiddo. See you later."

"Later, Dad."

Taylor watched as her dad headed downstairs then she heard the back door open and close. With one last wide-eyed look back into her room, she headed downstairs to eat breakfast. If she were going crazy, she might as well to do so on a full stomach, she decided.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Half an hour later, her stomach full and the dishes washed and put away, Taylor crept back up the stairs towards her room. She fully expected the staff to be gone, just a vestige of an active imagination. After all, she had stayed up late reading _The Sword of Shannara_ the night before. Maybe she had been sleepwalking when she ran into the staff and it was only a vestige of a dream.

Then again, maybe not. The staff was still embedded into the floor of her bedroom, looking impossibly fantastic and intimidating. Should she try to pull it out? Or was she better off leaving it there and calling the PRT, the Parahuman Response Team, and telling them all about it?

Unfortunately, if she turned out to be the only one who could see and interact with the thing, that might not work out so well. The PHO Boards were full of threads on people who had gone to the PRT insisting that they had some form of Parahuman power, only for it to turn out to exist only in their imaginations. It had likely bred a healthy sense of skepticism on the PRT's part when dealing with potential Parahumans.

No, Taylor didn't want anyone thinking she was crazy. Maybe the best way to prevent that was to at least do as much investigation herself as possible before calling in the authorities. She ignored the tiny voice in the back of her mind that seemed to be saying that it was actually because _she_ wanted to be to be special more than anything else in the world.

Moving forward carefully, Taylor eventually stood directly next to the staff. With an outstretched index finger, she poked at the thick shaft. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing happened. It hadn't felt any different from any other item she handled in her daily life. No electric shocks had hit her. It wasn't blazing hot or icy cold. It hadn't broadcast a telepathic message into her head. Neither had she lifted into the air to soar, imbued with the power of flight. Instead, Taylor, and the staff in front of her, both stood exactly where they had a moment before, her on the floor, the staff in front of her embedded into it.

Taylor was beginning to think that maybe the thing was an extreme sort of practical joke from her dad. If so, he was likely lurking somewhere downstairs, only pretending to have driven off to work. Well, she thought, if she was going to go along with the joke, she might as well try to pull the staff from her bedroom's floor.

Reaching out with both hands, Taylor wrapped them around the thick shaft of the staff about halfway down from the crystal atop it. Tugging on it, she realized that it was really stuck. Then she pulled as hard as she possibly could, and it came out of the floor in a rush, almost hitting the ceiling it was so large. That was when the feeling hit her.

That was a sense of percussion, thunder without sound, blowing outward from her, and stirring the contents of her room like a stiff breeze. An intense shock followed, ripping through her body. To Taylor, it felt almost like what she imagined touching a live wire might feel as every muscle in her body locked up into a rictus. Falling sideways onto the floor, just missing the edge of her bed, she lay there with the staff pressed against her chest, somehow the crystal atop now resting against her cheek.

Taylor couldn't breath! It was almost as if the air had grown too gelatinous to draw in, far thicker and more vicious than water. It refused to enter her throat and fill her lungs, clinging to her tongue like tar. Her arms and legs refused to aid her, muscles locked up in a rictus. She couldn't even make a single sound as air also refused to leave her aching lungs.

Oddly enough, despite everything that was going on, Taylor felt no sense of panic. Somewhere deep inside, she knew the sense of calm was a false, knew that she should be trying to shriek her lungs out. But terror and dread had no hold upon her mind. Instead, Taylor was focused upon another far more disturbing sensation creeping through her body.

It started at her toes, then slowly spread through her entire body. It being a sensation of slowly being taken apart and put back together again. Her muscles, bones, tendons, and ligaments were all, one by one, being changed. When the sensation reached her head, Taylor lost her senses one by one, first going blind and deaf, then going numb before finally losing her sense of taste and smell.

Again, it was incredibly disturbing, which was likely why her mind had been taken over and artificially calmed. Taylor lay there, completely divorced from all reaction to sensation, as one by one, each of her senses began functioning once more. First, glaring light bloomed before her eyes. Next, she heard sounds, a cacophony of noise and sensation filling her ears. Taylor felt her other senses return one by one, touch allowing her to feel every weave of the clothing covering her body, taste filling her mouth with saliva despite the metallic flavors within, while her nose registered far too many scents to differentiate them all.

Taylor continued to lay there, her muscles finally going quiescent. Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, she remembered how to breath again and she dragged in a huge lungful of air.

Suddenly free, she tossed aside the staff and scurried backwards on hands and knees, sobbing and gasping. The world was blurry and she desperately pulled her glasses off to try to see past them, stunned as the world around her resolved instantly into razor sharpness. Sheer wonderment filled Taylor as she stared at the staff she'd tossed aside, every last detail of the item now visible to her eyesight.

Her new vision was far far better than merely perfect. She could see every last detail of the staff, its straight black length shod in a paler metal on one end, while the other end hosted the beast's head, likely made from the same metal, its agape jaws holding the crystal. Dust flecks danced in the air in the space between it had her, looking almost like floating boulders when she focused her attention upon them.

Taylor became aware of the cacophony that had filled her ears earlier now slowly muting to a level that was bearable. But again, as with her sight, she could hear things she'd never imagined before. Down the street, the Barstows were arguing about money, while across the street on the backside of that block, a barking dog was chasing a hissing cat, their footfalls pattering through Taylor's ears. So many other stimuli danced through her senses, each telling a different story, that it was almost overwhelming.

When had her floor gotten so filthy, she wondered? Hadn't she just swept it the day before? Her hands, which had been resting upon the floor, recoiled as she felt the textures of hundreds of pieces of dirt and debris upon them. Frowning fastidiously, Taylor looked down to see the mess on the floor of her room. Then a moment later, she could smell it, musty and dusty and so much else.

What the fuck was happening to her? What... Like a bolt of lightning, realization filled her. She, Taylor Hebert, was a Parahuman! By touching the staff, something... had happened! Now, she had powers. Powers! She would _never_ be ordinary again.

Fears fading like frost under the touch of the sun, Taylor Hebert effortlessly rose to her feet. She felt strong and graceful, her mind and senses so alert that the world around her seemed like an open book. Feeling a sense of wonderment, she looked down at the staff that lay on the floor in front of her. That was when she realized it had changed.

Whereas before the staff had been been more than eight feet tall and far thicker than her upper arm, now it was barely five. Its shaft was perhaps two and a half inches in diameter now, seemingly sized for her. Even the beast's head and crystal had shrunk and together only added about six inches to the staff's total length. The crystal still radiated the strange pulsing light, and it took only a moment for Taylor to realize the frequency of the light was in tune with the beating of her own heart.

Carefully, she approached the staff, still feeling a bit wary. After all, the last time she had touched it, it had done something to her. Something that had sharpened her senses to the point of overwhelming her. At the same time, Taylor could feel the presence of other strange sensations within her own mind. So clearly handling the thing was not without its risks.

But Taylor refused to give in to her fear, trusting that what had happened was more beneficial than not. Bending down, she slid her fingers around the staff's shaft, easily lifting it from the floor. It's lightness surprised her. It was no heavier than if it were made of foam, yet somehow felt more solid than steel. The dichotomy puzzled her for a moment, then it fell away from her, lost on the wind.

That was weird, she thought. Taylor focused her attention back on the object in her hands. Handling the staff carefully, she realized that its main shaft wasn't metal like she had thought. It felt almost like wood, though not from any tree with which she was familiar. There also appeared to be no grain in the ebony material. Still, there was a warmth against her skin that no metal would ever possess.

The bottom of the staff was shod in a silvery metal that felt as cool to the touch as the other material felt warm. Running her fingers along it, for a moment the strangest sensation filled Taylor, as if she were living more than one life at once. Shuddering, she moved her hands back up.

Turning the staff sideways, Taylor tried to puzzle out the runes that ran along it. They certainly weren't in English, she thought. Then, something touched her, as if a door were opening in her mind. Filled with a sensation curiously like dread, she whispered, "Umrahnuha."

A shiver ran down her spine as she realized that she could understand the strange language which made up the runes. Apparently the staff's name was Umrahnuha. The closest approximation of the meaning of the word in English was a sense of the inevitable. Perhaps that something was destined.

Staring down at the staff, Taylor asked, "Is that your name? Umrahnuha? Destiny? Okay, that's it. Maybe I'm going crazy because now I'm talking to a stick."

Taylor shook her head in derision for talking aloud to an inanimate object, but then she felt something, a sense of... self-awareness, perhaps, coming from the object in her hands. No words were exchanged, but there was a clear sensation of agreement from the staff. From Umrahnuha.

Feeling a little shell-shocked, Taylor muttered, "Fine, then. You're Umrahnuha, the Staff of Destiny. Why are you here?"

Unfortunately, the staff failed to answer her question.

Moving to stand in front of a mirror, Taylor saw a familiar figure in the reflection there. For all that had just happened to her, she should have been taller, more filled out, and utterly beautiful. Instead, the plain wide-mouthed face that Taylor saw every morning in the mirror stared back at her. Worse, her new vision dissected her features like a scalpel, showing just how average she really was.

It was probably best, she decided bravely. It would be hard enough to hide the fact that her vision had improved so dramatically, as well as her other senses. The last thing she needed was to become some paragon, her appearance one of radiant beauty. Still, she felt what might well be other abilities lurking inside of herself. A feeling that sent a flutter down her spine.

If she did turn out to have more than just some physical changes in herself, what should she do with them? The thought of using those abilities to go out and fight other Parahumans vaguely excited her. At the same time, Taylor followed the cape scene close enough to know that solo heroes, especially those who fought the gangs here in Brockton Bay, rarely lasted long.

In the last two years, Darklight, Nimrod, Haunt, Baron Strauss, Keepsake, and Covenant had all burst upon the scene, been talked up on PHO for their exploits, and just as quickly ceased their heroic activities for one reason or another. Three of the six vigilante heroes had died, while the other three had simply vanished, either moving away or changing their name and joining one of the established gangs or the Protectorate. For example, it had been speculated that Keepsake, one of those two survivors, had joined Empire 88 and taken a new name, Rune. It wasn't a fate that Taylor would ever want for herself. And the risk would always be there, unless she chose to join the Wards.

Still, the thought that she might be able to do something other than be a whipping boy for Emma and the others made Taylor want to at least consider trying out the hero thing. Not the Wards, though, as just the thought of yet more teenage angst and drama made her feel vaguely ill. But, instead, on her own, at least for a while.

From the staff in her hand, there was a faint sense of ambivalence, as if becoming a hero was an ambition that was unworthy of it. Still, it wasn't a no. Feeling almost as if she were praying, Taylor quietly said, ″I'll try to be a hero and help as many people as I possibly can. Even if I don't succeed, I'll do my very best. I swear I will.″

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Upon those words, a dark god's laughter floated upon the winds...

~~~~ATotD~~~~


	2. Chapter Two: Revelations

**Chapter Two: Revelations**

 **AN:** Okay, folks, this ended up being a bit of a slow chapter as I focused on world and relationship building. Expect a bit more action in future chapters. For now, enjoy.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor stood for a moment, feeling indecisive, the pretentiousness of her words readily apparent to her. Become a hero. Like it was that easy.

Actually, becoming a hero was most likely the opposite of easy. She would need to figure out step by step what was required for her to do so. Especially since that was so diametrically opposite to her most recent persona, that of a victim.

Still, she didn't feel like a victim right at that moment. Instead, she felt strong. Not just physically, either. Her thoughts felt like they were clearer than they had been for some time. Maybe even since before her mom died.

If Taylor had to quantify the situation in some way, it was as if some burden had been lifted from her. That's when it came to her. The oppressive sense of dread she'd been feeling since midway through her freshman year was gone.

For over a year now, school had been a more than a burden, as every day there seemed to be a new form of aggravation, of being trodden upon, as her bullies seemed ever inventive in the methods they used to torment her. Between Emma, Sophia, and Madison, they seemed able to find every chink in her armor, discern and take advantage of every vulnerability, until Taylor had grown to hate and dread each moment she spent in school.

Taylor had begun to feel hunted, a victim in every way. It was that very mentality which made every day just a little bit worse. A little bit harder to find the strength to carry on. Now, there was almost a sense of distance, as if what had occurred had happened to someone else and not to her.

Considering the recent past and how she had reacted to the taunts and physical intimidation, Taylor didn't think it was too dramatic to say that she had been on her last legs. The girl she had been would have sought a way out of the burden that life had become, maybe even considering suicide.

There. She had brought the dark path, the coward's way out, into the light of day. Taylor could now see just how ridiculous even considering killing oneself was. She could also see how seductive it was to all too many people, both young and old. As well as how it would have appealed to her past self as a surcease to the pain that was plaguing her. After all, stubbornness could only take you so far. At some point, even the strongest people crumbled, and she had been anything but strong.

Shaking her head at the foolishness, the sheer stupidity at work here, Taylor knew she had to come up with a plan to deal with her school situation. With her bullies. She had two weeks to do so. And the first step, no matter how unpalatable, was to talk to her dad about it.

Adults had power in the world that kids just didn't. Getting him involved would bring at least part of the issue into the light of day. Plus Danny Hebert was the hiring manager of the Dockworkers Union, a large group of men who had a power all their own. The power of numbers.

Also, most of those same men had known her since she was a kid. Even if the BBQ's and birthday parties had dried up since her mom had died, it didn't mean those men and their families didn't still harbor warm feelings for a little knobby-kneed girl with glasses who used to always be underfoot.

Taylor could see all kinds of ways that the power of such a group could be leveraged against the school if they refused to help her. Unemployed men had a lot of time on their hands, and protests were surprisingly easy to organize. With a feeling almost of shock, she realized that all it would likely take to get them on her side would be for her to go down there to her dad's office and talk to them.

There were others as well. While attempting to use a hidden tape recorder to somehow secretly record them trying to hurt her and then using the resulting evidence to get them in trouble would be infinitely satisfying, it would also likely be an exercise in futility. Emma and her cronies were all too good at using methods that made it seem that they weren't targeting Taylor specifically. Often, the derogatory comments came from a group of girls scattered randomly around her. And a tape recorder wouldn't see the shoves and pushes she received from Sophia. Or the juice, soda, and other sticky substances constantly being placed in her classroom seats or upon her person.

No, talking to her teachers one on one and explaining how she felt about what was happening would be a far better way to deal with her bullies. By asking for their help individually and not as a group, she would force them to see her as another person, and not just a statistic. Taylor had made a haphazard attempt at speaking to some teachers when she had first been bullied back in ninth grade, but had given up shortly thereafter. However, if she did so again, or even better, did so with her dad accompanying her, it would be far more effective.

Why the hell hadn't she thought of doing this before, Taylor wondered? What had happened to her reasoning over the time frame since she had started being bullied? Had she really felt so isolated that she genuinely believed there were no other alternatives? That the only way to show how strong she was was to somehow outlast her bullies? What had made complete sense then, seemed like utter madness now.

Later this afternoon, she would gather up the documentation that she had been recording since the beginning of her sophomore year. She would talk about it with her dad after dinner, and together, come up with a plan to deal with school. Of course, that left the rest of the morning and afternoon free for her to try to figure out exactly what powers she actually had.

There was a smile on Taylor's face and a bounce to her step as she headed downstairs still carrying the staff she'd found.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The first step towards possibly going out as a hero was to find out as much as she could about what her new powers could actually do. Or even what powers she might have. Weirdly, unlike the speculation and discussion that she'd read about on PHO, she didn't seem to have some kind of built in understand of exactly what her power could do. Taylor couldn't remember the name of the cape whose thread she'd read, but what she did remember was that they had posted something about an intrinsic understanding of what they powers were capable of. Something built right into the ability. Other than her enhanced senses, that didn't describe her in any way, shape, form, or fashion.

Since Taylor didn't understand her powers, she would need to figure them out. Which meant having a place to do so. Unfortunately, moving the furniture in the living room wasn't a possibility unless she wanted to tell her dad all about why she had done so when he came home, so she was going to need to look further afield.

One possibility that immediately occurred to her was the basement. While it was full of stuff and dirty to boot, if Taylor cleaned it up and did a little organization, she could use it. Unfortunately, cleaning was probably the least fun part of that plan, especially when she would be able to still see dirt long after anyone else would think it clean. However, it needed to be done. Fortifying her will, Taylor set off to grab a broom, dustpan, and other cleaning supplies before heading downstairs to face the beast. After all, how bad could it be?

Three hours later, a little less cheerful and optimistic Taylor strode back up the stairs from the basement. Covered in dirt and dust and hauling three large garbage bags full of junk, she headed outside to throw them into the trash receptacle, joining the first four that she had already placed there.

Walking back inside and then down the stairs, Taylor surveyed her new realm.

The basement was now mostly clean, if not exactly as much so as she would have preferred, and if not perfectly organized, it was at least good enough for her purposes. Most of the random junk that had inhabited it was now neatly stacked at one end, on, around, and beneath a large worktable, rising nearly to the ceiling, while all of what she could only describe as garbage had been thrown out. What remained was a good-sized space, about eighteen feet by thirty, bordered on the north by furnace and old coal chute and on the south by the tall stacks of random stuff.

The stairs themselves ran along the west side of the basement, which was pretty typical with its concrete walls and floor, electric wiring running along the ceiling. All in all, it was a good space to try and use to figure out as much information as she could about her new abilities.

Of course, Taylor had already learned some things by just cleaning up the basement itself. She was definitely a lot stronger than she had been before. Exactly how much, she didn't know, as she didn't possess a base line for where she had started, nor did she actually know exactly how strong she was now. However, she'd found an old weight set that her dad used to use down here and was planning to use it to at least get a ball park figure.

Taylor had already learned that she had a lot more endurance than she'd ever had before. Despite being pretty skinny, she'd never been particularly in shape. Working the entire time cleaning up the basement, lifting and moving stuff while cleaning and scrubbing, as well as going up and down the stairs multiple times, hadn't really tired her out at all. She still had a level of energy that she frankly didn't think she had ever possessed in her life.

Whenever she had had to run before, which was usually from Emma and her cronies, Taylor had been gasping for air within minutes. Now she thought she might actually be able to run quite a distance. Maybe even three or four miles without flagging. However she was waiting to test that further tomorrow when she planned to jog over to the Boardwalk and back, assuming she could even get that far.

Taylor had also learned that her sense of balance had improved quite a bit. She'd discovered that little factoid when she had been maneuvering around an old leaf blower, while carrying a heavy box of old books, only to have the plastic crate she was standing upon collapse along one side.

It should have spilled her onto the floor at the very least. If her luck had been especially bad, it would have dumped her onto the floor where she would have smacked her head while the box of books she was carrying would probably have landed upon her head. Instead, what actually happened was that she somehow maintained her balance, her feet at a forty-five degree angle, before lightly jumping off the crushed crate to land with precision in a small open area that she had already cleared.

It had felt strange and wonderful to be that nimble. The bright smile that Taylor had worn for the next hour had been another direct result of not falling on her ass. Although the smile had eventually worn away under the boredom of cleaning, the warm feeling in her chest was still there.

Which lead to what she was currently about to do. Taylor had gathered together a few items, ranging from the weight set to a board and several old balls, planning to use them to help test her new physical abilities. She also had a couple of cheap, blank notebooks that she regularly used to replace those that the Trio so often liked to ruin, to take notes in.

She wasn't one hundred percent sure exactly what qualities she should be testing for. Well, strength was one obvious one, as was endurance, which she planned to test tomorrow on her run. But what else did a hero need when fighting villains?

From her own reading on PHO, Taylor understood that speed, or rather how quickly her reflexes reacted to stimuli, was another important trait. Then there was flexibility and balance, as well as physical toughness. Last were more mental traits, such as wisdom and intelligence, which she already suspected had increased simply because of how much clearer her thinking had become. She planned to test them more later by seeing if classwork was any easier.

Taylor marked a column Strength and set out to test herself. She had already counted how much weight she had for the metal bar and figured out that it was two hundred seventy pounds, divided into several plates of various sizes. Since the bar was also heavy, likely weighing around thirty pounds, Taylor figured that she could use the total amount to test how strong she was.

Starting out with two of the larger plates, one on either side, that were stamped 'Olympic 45 lbs', Taylor tried to raise the bar over her head, after lifting it from the floor. That turned out to actually be pretty easy. Increasing the weight by adding two of the thirty-five pound plates for a total of one hundred and ninety pounds, including the bar, she tried the same thing again. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately instead, it was still pretty easy.

Even putting on all of the other, smaller, plates and bringing the total weight to three hundred pounds didn't noticeably stress her arms. It did, however, show her how hard it could be to balance so much weight when she was probably only a hundred and twenty. A bit disheartened that she was the end of her ability to test her strength, she set the weights back on the floor. That was when Taylor had an idea. What if, instead of using two hands, she instead used just one hand to grasp the bar in the middle and lift it from the floor up and over her head?

The resulting action actually took quite a bit of effort, as well as testing her balance. As did repeating it with her other arm. While she might be able to lift a little more weight, Taylor knew she couldn't do the same thing with, say, half again as much. Still, it meant that she was quite a bit stronger than even a strong man, although to be honest, she wasn't sure if she would even qualify as a first level Brute. She definitely wouldn't be bench pressing buses or arm wrestling Glory Girl of New Wave any time soon.

Regardless, Taylor wrote down what she had learned about her abilities.

The next thing she wanted to test was how fast her reflexes were. Taylor had come up with what she thought was an effective method of testing herself. She picked up one of the balls that she had gathered up earlier, an old baseball. Then she dropped it from about head height, waiting until it was just a couple of feet above the concrete floor, then catching it just before it hit. She did it again, waiting even longer this time to allow it travel further, then once more. The final time it was only six inches off the floor when she lunged down and caught it.

Okay, that hadn't worked quite as well as Taylor thought it would. After all, how did she even know how fast the ball was falling or whether it was exceptional that she could catch it before it hit the floor? Thinking furiously, Taylor didn't see another better way to check her current reaction speed.

Feeling a little thirsty, Taylor decided to work on this after she went and grabbed herself something to drink. Running upstairs, again marveling at how effortless physical movements had become, she grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. This time of year, tap water was every bit as cold as what came out of the refrigerator and she enjoyed it despite the clear chemical aftertaste.

She drained the glass, refilled it, then drained it again. Filling the glass one more time, Taylor had an idea. Hoping it wasn't a bad one, she set the glass on the edge of the counter, then deliberately pushed it over. She didn't even move until the glass was less than a foot off the floor. That was when Taylor reached down and snatched the glass out of the air.

Grinning like a buffoon, Taylor danced around the kitchen, holding the glass aloft like it was a trophy. Not only had she caught it, but she hadn't spilled a single drop. That same odd sense of balance she'd already seen in action had aided her here as well.

It was almost as if she knew exactly how to position the glass so that the water stayed near the bottom. Taylor had known that she wouldn't spill a drop if she moved _just so_. Not exactly intuition, the feeling had been more of knowing how the world around her was reacting to her movements. Even that didn't really describe it. Maybe it was more of a feeling as if she had done this a thousand times before. Regardless, it had worked.

Heading back downstairs, Taylor quickly jotted down what she had done. Then she set out to test her balance.

Already having seen it in action, the test she had come up with was a lot harder than those for her other abilities. Setting one of the baseballs she had found on the floor, while holding three more, Taylor took the board, about three feet long and four inches wide, and set it on top of the ball, carefully balancing it there. Then with one foot on the floor, she put her other foot onto the broomstick where it sat on top of the baseball, holding it in place.

Then in a move that Taylor imagined looked like something from a movie, she put her other foot on top of the board as well, just a little further from the center of balance. Easily rocking back and forth, while sliding sliding her feet outward, she soon was standing with her feet about shoulder width apart, while balanced upon the broomstick that rested on top of the ball.

Now for the piece de resistance, Taylor thought gleefully. Putting two balls in one hand, and one in the other, she began to juggle, something she'd learned how to do back when she was little.

Taylor immediately realized two things. First, that it wasn't even the the slightest challenge to balance this way. It felt like she was standing on solid ground. Second, that she felt like she could juggle at least twice as many balls as she had in the air at the moment.

She tried lifting one foot off of the broomstick, hopping to recenter herself, all the while continuing to juggle. A moment later, Taylor tossed the balls up high, while maneuvering the bottom ball and board slightly, before catching and juggling them behind her back.

Okay, she decided, this was completely ridiculous. She had to try something else.

Half an hour later, Taylor learned that there seemed to be no limit to how bullshit her sense of balance was. She had just finished juggling seven items, ranging from an old alarm clock to a pipe wrench, while balancing on top of four different balls, each of them stacked one atop another with a variety of pieces of wood separating them, ranging from another board to an old broomstick.

Okay, so her sense of balance was better than pretty much anyone else alive. Maybe there was a Parahuman out there somewhere whose power was balance and was better at it than her, but that was probably about it. Vaguely, she remembered an independent cape named Circus supposedly having an enhanced sense of balance. She wondered how hers measured up against the other cape's.

Taylor carefully noted down the results, not being able to suppress the smile on her face at the further evidence that she was now special.

She needed to try something else now. Remembering a gymnastic class she took a few times with Emma when she was about six, Taylor decided to try a few of the things they'd half learned back then.

Stepping forward, she easily did a cartwheel. Then another and another. A back flip was just as easy, her slim limbs feeling extremely flexible. Then Taylor tried to do something difficult.

Moving to one end of the basement, she took off at a run. Halfway to the other side of the room, Taylor leaped into the air and did a sideways flip in mid air, her hair just brushing the floor. Laughing in sheer delight at the way her body was able to move now, she repeated the process a few more times. She was even able to manage two complete spins in the air, her body moving so fast it was almost humming. Even as she noted down the results, Taylor wasn't all that sure how useful something like this would be in fighting crime. It sure was fun, though.

The next part was a bit less fun for her, since it involved a hammer and her little finger.

Picking up the old claw hammer with a feeling of trepidation, Taylor rested her hand against the rough concrete wall, conscious of every last big of texture under her skin. She reluctantly pushed her littlest finger outward from the others. Raising the hammer, she immediately knew she wasn't going to miss. The hammer's balance was only slightly off, something she could easily compensate for.

Okay, that was weird, she thought. She wondered if the same sense would work on other things she picked up, allowing her to know if a knife or sword were less than perfectly balanced. Heck, wouldn't it be interesting if she could use it on pretty much any device, simple or mechanically complex. How cool would that be?

Realizing that she was just delaying the inevitable, Taylor decided to just get it over with. She smacked her little finger with the hammer, not putting a lot of force behind the blow, instead allowing the weight of the hammer's head to do most of the work. It hit her exactly where she'd aimed, right on the last joint of her finger, just below the nail.

Waiting for pain to come shooting down her arm, Taylor was relieved when it didn't. The blow hadn't affected her any more than if she had pressed down on her finger with the tip of a finger of her other hand. So she at least had some form of enhanced physical toughness. Maybe.

Deciding she needed to do it a few more times to be sure, she hit the same finger approximately twice as hard. This time, there was a faint stinging sensation on the surface of her skin. Taylor did it yet again, this time hitting more than twice as hard as she just had, well over four times the initial blow.

"Ouch!"

Taylor quickly stuck her abused digit in her mouth, then pulled it back out, grimacing at the flavor. Okay, an enhanced sense of taste was just disgusting, she thought. She blew on her finger, already feeling the stinging starting to go away.

Wanting to see if she had actually hit herself as hard as she thought she had, Taylor took the hammer that was still in her hand and smacked the wall with the same force she'd just used on herself. Chips of concrete flew and her eyes could detect a series of micro cracks radiating away from the point of impact and into the wall's depths.

So definitely a Brute in toughness. Not very high, though, so she would need to focus on not getting hit in the first place.

The last test that Taylor did was to see if her skin was resistant to cuts. She decided to do that test upstairs in the kitchen sink to minimize the mess. Grabbing one of the good kitchen knives from the block by the stove, she set it against the skin on her little finger, although this time switching hands.

Taylor already knew the knife was sharp, so she wasn't surprised when it cut into her finger once she put pressure behind it. But the cut looked more shallow than it ought to be, giving the amount of force she'd used. The same thing occurred when she tried to stab her hand.

The sharp point of the chef's knife went in, as pain radiated outward from the wound, but it didn't seem to penetrate quite as much as it ought to. Her hand throbbing slightly as she dripped blood into the sink, Taylor contemplated exactly what that meant for her. It was then that the oddest thing happened.

Taylor had been aware of a strange pressure in the back of her head for some time. She knew it had to be some aspect of her new power, but had put off trying to figure the source out until she had some kind of benchmark set for her physical abilities. Now that pressure had mounted to the point it felt like it was about to spill out of her.

The pressure seemed to want to focus upon her injured hand, so Taylor decided to let it, hoping she wasn't making a mistake. Use of this power seemed more about just releasing it to do its will than about trying to control it. Relaxing the hold she had against the pressure in her head, Taylor felt it rush outward from some well deep inside of her, filling her hand with a strange warmth.

Just like that, Taylor felt incredibly good. So good in fact that she wanted to dance around the room or go run a marathon to burn off some of the excess energy. Accompanying that feeling was the sight of the wounds on her hand simply disappearing, gone as if they'd never existed. Not even a scar marked the place where they'd been, with only the drops of blood scattered around the inside of the kitchen sink evidence that they had ever existed.

Inside of her head, the pressure was reduced. Not completely gone, but lower than before. If she had to guess, there was enough of it to do what had just happened two to three times more, but not more than that.

Taylor realized that she was trying to distract herself by focusing on mutinai. Because what had just happened was huge. She was a healer!

It was an incredible ability. The number of healing capes nationwide was only a tiny fraction of the total number of Parahumans who possessed powers. It was actually incredibly unusual that a city the size of Brockton Bay would count itself home to two such capes, Panacea of New Wave, and Othala of Empire 88. That Taylor was a third was beyond amazing.

The ideas of what she could do with this power bombarded her thoughts. She could save lives. Help people. Maybe even save someone's life who had been injured in a car wreck, her mother Annette's accident suddenly in the forefront of her thoughts.

That was assuming that she could use the ability on others. Like being hit with a bucket of ice water, she was suddenly brought back down to earth. If she could use it on others, it would be wonderful. If she could merely heal herself, it would still be great, just not as much.

Taylor could also see that having a teammate who could heal would be a huge boon to any team of Parahumans. It would mean she would need to be especially careful when dealing the gangs. Because it was all too likely that they would attempt to recruit her by force if they found out.

Empire 88 would love to have another healer in their ranks, especially someone who was white and fitted their target demographic. Taylor doubted that even Lung and the ABB, despite their emphasis on recruiting solely Asian members for their gang, would refuse an opportunity to gain a healer, whatever her race.

So she would need to be very careful to maintain the secrecy of her real identity. Because despite being stronger, faster, and possessing fantastic balance and reflexes, there was no way she could fight off an entire gang while keeping both her and her dad safe.

Taylor refused to dwell on the dark path her thoughts had taken any longer. Healing was a risk, but one she would deal with. In the meantime, she would need to test it more at a later time to find out the limits of what she could do. She was now even more interested in what the other ability that was lurking inside of her did. But since it felt far less safe than healing, she would need to investigate it somewhere other than at home.

That was enough physical testing for Taylor. Time to move onto the mental aspect. She needed to see if there had been any increase in her intelligence. Of course, the easiest way to check that would be to just take an IQ test. Unfortunately, she didn't have one of those just lying around. Plus, as slow as their internet connection was, it was all too likely if she tried to take one online, it would lag out, making her appear to be a moron.

So Taylor decided to see if there had been any change in how well she could do her schoolwork. She had brought home all of her school books since there was no way she could leave them safely at school. It was probably easiest to start with math as she'd missed a lot of the classroom theory because of worrying about what her bullies were getting up to. Racing upstairs, she grabbed her backpack and headed back down to the kitchen table. She pulled out her Algebra textbook, her nose crinkling at the sight of spots rubbed into the cover by the fingers of countless students like herself. Dismissing the thought of just how many germs the damn thing probably had on it, as well as thankful she couldn't see that well, Taylor opened the book to a section they'd covered in class, but which she hadn't really understood at the time.

It didn't take long to figure out that she now remembered everything from the class. Since there was no way she had been paying attention to Mr Hayes while he had been lecturing, it had to be some aspect of her power. The problems themselves seemed incredibly easy as well, but she wasn't sure if that was because she was somehow smarter or not.

To test it further, Taylor decided to go over something that they hadn't covered yet in class and tried to solve some of the problems there. Opening the book to near its end, she started to read.

It was an hour later that she finally came up for air. Staring at the precise writing covering several sheets of paper in front of her, Taylor realized that she had learned a few things.

First, she didn't have any kind intrinsic understanding of math. For example, she couldn't just solve math problems which were extremely different from anything she'd encountered before. However, she could read a section on how to do a kind of math problem and easily solve it then. It wasn't something that had come extremely easy to her in the past, although neither had it been especially hard. But it was definitely easier to learn on her own than it had ever been before. After all, Taylor had had to teach herself a great deal of the knowledge from several classes as Emma and the others had made it hard to concentrate in class. It seemed a lot easier to do that now than it had before.

She wasn't completely sure what it meant, but it was obvious that she was at least a little smarter than she had been. Or maybe she was just better at learning? Deciding to try it one more time, Taylor repeated the experiment using her Physics book instead.

Another half hour passed before she raised her head from her book. Okay, she was definitely retaining information a lot better. Her memory was better, something she had already suspected, as was her problem solving. It wasn't a huge increase. Taylor hadn't become a genius or savant, a Thinker able to know whatever she wanted about a subject without even trying, but she was definitely brighter.

Having already been someone who considered herself smart, she could see the advantage of being even more intelligent. Of being better at problem solving. For example, why hadn't she just gone to school a few minutes early for the past year and handed in assignments at that time as a way to prevent Emma and company from stealing or destroying her homework? It would have helped her grades so much last semester alone. Taylor wanted to slap herself as it seemed so obvious to her now.

On the other hand, Taylor wasn't sure how much the idea she had just come up with was owed to a fundamental change in her thinking. Because two more things had just become obvious to her. First, the recent lull in her bullies' activities was likely designed to put her off her guard. They weren't likely to have actually stopped, nor were they planning to. Second, the idea of that happening didn't really alarm her.

Clearly something had shifted in her mindset, and _that_ should have been alarming. Taylor had heard too many stories of Parahumans triggering and then going basically... well, crazy was one word for it. Another was insane.

Was she going crazy? Taylor didn't think so. If anything, she currently felt calmer and more mentally balanced than she ever had before. Plus, thinking about her mother's death still sent a wave of sadness through her very being even if it wasn't quite as gut wrenching as it had once been. Clearly she wasn't some emotionless robot. She also had no urge to go out and slaughter anyone, not even the three girls who had been bullying her for a year and a half.

Was it confidence from becoming a Parahuman? Maybe. However, Taylor didn't see a way that being one would help her here. It wasn't as if she could just go and beat up any of them, as doing so would result in her being charged with assault using a Parahuman ability. That was something that could get you thrown in the Birdcage, depending on the severity of the attack.

No, Taylor would still have to put up with Emma, Sophia, and Madison, whether she was a Parahuman or not. Of course, if she chose to join the Wards, it was likely she could get a transfer to Arcadia High, where most of them were supposed to go to school. But Taylor had been serious before when she'd decided against the idea of having more teenage angst and drama in her life. Powers simply meant it would likely be a worse situation than she imagined.

So that idea was definitely out. Of course, if she hadn't followed Emma to Winslow a year and a half ago, but had instead used her good grades to apply for Arcadia, it was likely she would have gotten in. But back then, the bonds of friendship had been everything. It wasn't until too late that Taylor had learned those bonds were actually been built on something far shiftier than mere sand.

Okay, so not everything in her thinking had changed, Taylor thought, as a familiar sensation of bitter disappointment filled her. She'd never known why Emma did what she did all those months ago before the start of high school. Clearly, something had happened to the other girl while Taylor was off at camp. When she'd returned, Emma had been different, with her new friend, Sophia, filling the space that she had formerly occupied.

Now where had that thought come from, Taylor wondered? How did she know that something had happened to Emma over the summer? She went over her thought process, trying to break it down piece by piece. It didn't take long once she focused her entire attention on it.

Maybe if it had been something else, or concerning a person less important to Taylor than Emma had been, she might not have remembered enough to have ever put it together. But Emma had been her best friend for too many years. Taylor could still remember wondering at the time why Emma wouldn't talk to her, trying to figure out if she had done something to make her best friend upset. Back then, she hadn't had a clue. Now it was a lot more obvious.

Her mom's brief silences when Taylor would call before setting down the phone to go ask Emma if she would talk to her. There had been catches in her voice on more than one occasion, indicating that she was upset. The one time she'd spoken to Emma's dad felt similar, although he had sounded even more defeated. Combine that with how Emma, herself, had reacted when Taylor had finally come calling were all indicative of her former friend experiencing something traumatic.

It didn't make Taylor forgive the other girl. Even if something terrible had happened to Emma that summer, it didn't mean her behavior since was okay. Maybe it made understanding the other girl a little easier, but that was about it. Thinking back on what Emma and the others had done to her mom's flute made Taylor realize that some things were simply unforgivable.

Deciding that she had enough of such dark thoughts, Taylor got to her feet. A quick glance at the clock on the wall made her realize that she had left herself with plenty of time to make a quick trip downtown. She needed to get some plain lenses for her glasses at Lenscrafters. First though, she needed to take a shower. If she were lucky, she might even have time to make dinner before her dad got home. It would be interesting to see if this new power of hers extended to making edible food, something which she had struggled with in the past.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Danny Hebert whistled slightly as he headed towards the back door. Today had been one of the good days, a contract for a week's work for half a dozen men coming in. Fortunately, picking out who among the many men waiting for work, many of them friends, wasn't part of his job. That, he left to Mark Simmons.

He didn't think he'd be in anywhere near as good of a mood if he had to go out and face those worried faces, all of them looking for work to put bread on their families' tables. Of course, thinking about that made Danny wonder if he had anything to fix dinner for Taylor with. He was almost sure that he could at least make some hamburger goulash if nothing else.

Walking through the back door into the mud room, Danny called out, "Taylor, I'm home!"

Kicking off his boots, he walked into the kitchen in his socks, only to be greeted by a wonderful smell.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo. What's cooking?"

Looking over his daughter's shoulder, Danny stared down into the mishmash of food that she was happily sautéing. He recognized onions, peppers, and a few other things, cooking with a healthy portion of the ground beef that had been thawing in the fridge. It didn't look all that great, but at least it smelled good.

Taylor shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just threw some stuff together. I know it looks weird, but it's going to taste good. I also made a pan of rice to go with it."

A few minutes later found the two of them seated across from one another at the kitchen table, happily eating what Taylor had made. Danny quickly decided that it did taste pretty good, especially when ladled over rice. Otherwise, to be honest, it was just a bit too spicy all by itself.

Swallowing, he asked, "So how did your day go, kiddo?"

Taylor shrugged again. "Okay. I didn't do much. A little studying. Cleaned up the basement. That's about it."

Danny was flabbergasted. "You cleaned up the basement? The whole thing?"

She grinned. "Sure. It was pretty bad, actually. Oh, and the dumpster thingie is full. Actually, overflowing just a little."

Danny shook his head. "I can't believe you cleaned up the entire thing. Let's finish up dinner and you can show me how it looks."

The smile he got in return brought a warm feeling to his insides, although that may have been the food.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor gestured towards the far wall. "I stacked all of that stuff there. I left the weights out in case you ever want to use them."

"Look's good, kiddo. Although where you found the energy to do all this, I have no idea."

Watching her dad poke around the basement, looking over her work, a warm smile on his lips, made Taylor feel good. Self-deprecating, she said, "It wasn't that hard, actually. I just had to stay at it."

"Well, it looks great. I really appreciate you doing this."

Taylor made a grand gesture with one hand. "You're very welcome." Then, in a quieter voice, she asked, "Dad, can I talk to you about something."

Danny walked over to stand near her. "Of course you can, honey. What is it?"

"I want to take up jogging in the morning beginning tomorrow."

Clearly, whatever her dad had expected her to say, it wasn't that. Taylor could see emotions play across his features, surprise being supplanted by worry. "Kiddo, I'm not sure how safe that would be. This isn't the best neighborhood to be out at odd hours if you know what I mean. Plus, gang violence has been on the rise with an increase in clashes between the ABB and Empire 88."

Taylor nodded. "I know. But what self respecting gangbanger is going to be up at six in the morning? Seriously, though, I need to get myself in better shape. I'm getting a pot belly."

Rubbing his own slight belly, Danny asked, "And what's wrong with that? Look, I get that you want to get into shape. I think it's a great idea. I'm just not sure that running in the morning is the right way to go about it."

Taylor hated to beg, as it felt far too much like manipulation to her, but she did it anyway. "Please, Dad? Please?"

Danny sighed. "Fine. But I have stipulations. Nonnegotiable. First, no running before nine until I get a chance to buy you some pepper spray. After that, no running at night or before six am."

Taylor nodded. She could do that. "Next, you stick with running near the Boardwalk or Downtown. No running through random Dock areas. I want other people around."

"Sure, Dad, I can do that."

He raised a finger. "I'm not done. If you get up early to run, you'll knock on my door before you leave so that I know that you're gone and to expect you back."

Taylor felt touched at her dad's concern. She was just about to open her mouth to agree when he finished with, "And no overdoing it. I don't want you exercising until it makes you sick."

She lunged forward for a hug. Against her dad's shirt, she murmured, "Thanks, Dad."

Danny ruffled her hair. "No problem, kiddo."

"Hey!"

Standing there, her face pressed against her dad's shirt, for the first time Taylor was conscious of his scent, composed of equal parts musk, dust, toner, and some indescribable 'Dad' smell. It was weird to be able to smell someone like this, but she knew at that moment that she would never forget the smell of him. Pulling back a little, she looked up at his face.

The two of them shared a look that was full of remembered emotion, affection given and received. It made Taylor realize that she spent far too little time with her dad, the chasm that had grown between them as much her fault as his.

Okay, she decided, maybe it was a little more her dad's fault than hers. He was the adult, after all. But Danny Hebert had completely shut down after her mom's death, as if she had taken some part of him with her into the afterlife. While he seemed to have recovered since then, Taylor could tell he still struggled, smiles at something funny coming just a little bit slower than they had in the past.

Maybe it was up to her to take the first step before they grew too far apart for either of them to even bother. Taking a deep breath, Taylor said, "Dad, I need to talk to you about something else as well. I want you to promise not to freak out first, though."

Faint alarm filled Danny's eyes, but he hesitantly nodded. "I promise I won't overreact, Taylor. What is it?"

Taking his hand in hers, Taylor led him back upstairs to the kitchen table. Sitting down across from, she could see the alarm slowly growing in his expression. In a careful voice, she said, "I wanted to talk to you about school and what's been happening there. About the bullies who have been tormenting me. About Emma. You see, she's the one who's behind it all."

Even as she spoke, the alarm in her dad's eyes grew more intense, before being replaced by fury. Oh crap, she thought. Well, he did promise not to overreact. He just didn't promise not to react at all. She sat there and let the fury of the storm wash over her.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

More than two hours had passed. Taylor had explained while her dad had asked questions. Then Danny had ranted and raved for a while each time before taking a deep breath and visibly forcing himself to calm down. If she had ever had any questions about whether he loved her or not, those were answered tonight.

No, Taylor thought, her dad loved her. He might not always understand her, and was sometimes clueless about how to deal with her, but he clearly cared a lot. It was also clear that what she had just told him had hurt deeply. Even now, unshed tears glittered in his eyes. Of course, they were as much of fury as pain, as Danny Hebert had never been someone who dealt calmly with his emotions.

But she was confident that none of that anger was directed at her. Even before whatever had happened to her in her bedroom, she felt she would have known that. Now, it was all too obvious.

"Taylor, we're going to figure out what to do about this. That I promise you."

She smiled, unable not to in the face of his conviction. "I already have some ideas I wanted to run by you. I've been thinking about this for some time. But before we talk about it, can I get a hug?"

Danny stood up abruptly. "Of course you can, kiddo."

Taylor stood up, only to be engulfed in a hug that would have crushed the breath out of her before, her dad's scent surrounding her. Now it just felt good to be hugged that fiercely. She hugged him back almost as hard, trying to be conscious of her strength. Not that she was really strong enough to actually hurt him, but having his fifteen-year-old daughter squeeze him as hard as she could would likely raise all kinds of questions.

A few minutes later found them sitting together again at the kitchen table as Taylor explained her ideas for dealing with her bullies. For the most part, her dad agreed, but he did make one suggestion she didn't really like.

"I think I should talk to the parents of these girls."

Hesitantly, Taylor said, "Dad, I don't think that-"

"No, I think it's necessary, Taylor. Look, this stuff is happening because the staff at Winslow is turning a blind eye. Which means none of their parents have any idea that this is happening. I'll get with Alan and Sarah the day after Christmas and sit down with them. I'll track down Madison and Sophia's parents the week after that. I know it's something that makes you uncomfortable, but trust me, it's better to just get it all out there. That way, if anything further happens, no one can say they were surprised."

Put that way, Taylor could see how it would be helpful. Oddly enough, the idea of her dad talking to the parents of her bullies didn't really bother her. She didn't think it would accomplish much, but if there was even a chance it would take care of exactly what her dad thought it would it was worth trying.

So with a smile on her face, she got up and went around the table to lean down and wrap her arms around his neck. "Thanks, Dad. I love you."

Danny's hands squeezed the arms looped around his neck. "Love you too, kiddo. I promise we'll get this crap you've been having to put up with stopped."

After that, the two of them ended up in the living room watching a cartoon from Earth Aleph called Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. It made Taylor smile even though it was a bit juvenile for her. But it did give her another idea.

"Dad?"

He glanced over at her. "What's up?"

Looking him directly in the eyes, Taylor asked, "Why don't we put up Christmas decorations anymore?"

This was the third Christmas that they hadn't decorated, making the house feel just a little bit drab and barren. Taylor missed the lights and colors being up all around the living room and kitchen, as well as the outdoor lights. Plus, she hadn't seen Mr Snuffles, Woofie Toofles, or Snowie, the Christmas Bear, during all of that time. Staples of her childhood, they had languished in the attic since her mom's death.

Danny looked suddenly ill at ease. He muted the TV, then set down the remote. Somewhat evasively, he said, "Well, your... mom was the one who always decorated the house. I just don't..."

"We could decorate it together."

Looking over at Taylor, her dad asked, "What's got into you, kiddo? First you tell me about the bullying, something which you've refused to talk about in past. Now, you bring up the decorating for Christmas. Don't get me wrong. It's not bad. I'm just surprised."

"I think that I want things to go back to the way they were before. We used to be so close. Then there was what happened to Mom. After that, there was Emma. I think we both kind of shut down. I know I did. I was scared of being hurt."

There was an unfathomable look in her dad's eyes. "And now?"

"Now, I want to live again. We're alive, you and me. We have each other. I know that I can count on you. That you love me. I hope that you know that I love you too and that I'll always be there for you."

"Even in my dotage? Bringing me warm milk and my slippers when I'm closing in on being an octogenarian?"

Laughing, Taylor agreed, "Sure. Except you hate milk. But I'll bring you a beer and your slippers."

Danny started laughing as well. "That works for me."

After a little while, the two of them slipped into a comfortable silence, the images playing silently on the screen before them. Finally, after a few minutes, Danny glanced over at Taylor. "So when did you want to get started decorating? Tonight? Or tomorrow?"

Jumping up from the couch so fast it almost felt like she springs on her feet, Taylor rushed over to hug him.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor couldn't keep the grin off her face as she ate breakfast in a far more festive environment than she had the day before. All around her now were the signs that it was nearly Christmas.

All of the Christmas cannisters now stood on the kitchen counter, while place mats were on the table showing scenes of Santa Claus and his elves. A centerpiece of artificial chrysanthemums stood in a red and green glass vase in the middle. Even the plate she was eating off of bore a scene from Santa's workshop, elves busy at work.

Above her head dangled Christmas decorations of all kinds, some hanging from the ceiling while others were attached to the room's light fixture. There was even a few items that Taylor herself had made in different grades in school scattered around the kitchen.

In the living room, the change was even more dramatic. There was a Christmas throw showing a snowy outdoor scene on the couch, while wreaths, ribbons, and festive sconces decorated each of the walls. More chrysanthemums stood in vases around the room, while a nativity scene took up most of one wall.

On the fireplace's mantle, the place of honor went to Mr Snuffles in his red and green Christmas sweater, while on either side of him were Woofie Toofles and Snowie in their own brightly colored outfits. Beneath them hung two large red stockings with 'Danny' and 'Taylor' in glitter letters on each of them respectively.

They had even managed to get the large Christmas wreath on the front door, although they hadn't had time to put up lights. That was something the two of them were going to do together after her dad got home tonight, well, after they picked up a tree.

The small artificial tree that was all that they currently possessed had seemed too small and drab in the now festive room, so her dad had diffidently suggested buying a better one, something to which Taylor had enthusiastically agreed. Her dad was even going to borrow a truck from Kurt so that they could get the thing home, no matter how large of a tree they ended up with.

Taylor couldn't wait for tonight to come so that they could get to pick out a tree and decorate it and put up lights. In the meantime, she had plenty to occupy herself, she decided.

After all, it was finally time to go out on a run. The clock had struck nine am, which was exactly when she'd agreed would be the earliest she'd go out.

Doing a final check of the laces of her shoes, Taylor headed out the door. Stopping at the street, she momentarily considered trying to stretch her muscles, but two things stopped her. First, she didn't really know how to stretch, and second, she didn't really feel like she needed to stretch as her body felt great, as loose and ready to go as it had been the day before.

Taking off at what felt like a fair clip, Taylor pondered her night starting from right after she'd gone to bed. Despite being out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow, she definitely hadn't slept that well. Or rather that long. She'd woken up within four hours and hadn't been able to go back to sleep. Instead, she'd gotten up and did her best to do a bit of surfing on the family computer downstairs.

Unfortunately, it turned out that dial up was a bit slow for most websites, so she'd spent most of her time on PHO, sticking to the text only posts there. She had learned quite a bit that she hadn't known before, but she'd also read far too much that was mere speculation with little or no basis in fact. It turned out that for every post that had a bit of sense there were ten that had been written by idiots. Plus the fanfiction...

Hitting an intersection that she had to stop for, Taylor focused her attention back on herself as she bounced lightly while waiting for the 'Walk' sign to light up. Her breathing was slow and even, while her pulse didn't seem raised much if at all. The muscles in her legs felt loose and springy and she still felt full of energy.

Taking off when the sign lit up, Taylor decided to push herself just a little harder. Soon, she felt like she was running a lot faster than she had before, the sidewalk below flashing past her feet. However, it was only when she passed another pair of joggers, two fit-looking young men, who looked like they were standing still in comparison, did she realize just how fast she must be running.

She immediately slowed down, trying to pretend she'd been sprinting all out, even if that wasn't actually true. Somehow, she thought she could probably run more than twice as fast as she just had. It was likely just another aspect of being a Brute, although the fact that she wasn't even really getting out of breath might get her classified as a Mover.

That is, if they had a level that was less than one, she thought in amused resignation. While her abilities were fantastic compared to what she had been able to do before, they didn't really stack up to a Brute like, say, Aegis, a member of the Wards. The fact that Aegis not only appeared to be a lot stronger than her, but could also fly a lot faster than she could run, made him someone Taylor would hate to have to take on.

As a matter of fact, she really couldn't imagine even one Ward that she could take on with any certainty that she could win. Shadow Stalker and her abilities to become immaterial. Aegis with his Flight and Brute abilities. Clockblocker, who could freeze her with a touch. Gallant with his power armor. Kid Win, a Tinker who could supposedly fly and used laser pistols. Even Vista with her ability to warp space would probably be a good match for her.

Maybe the youngest Ward couldn't hurt her, but then again, if Taylor couldn't close with her, it wasn't as if the reverse weren't also true. It wasn't something that Taylor liked to dwell upon, but she might make a better support person than someone who actually engaged in hand to hand-

Stopping so suddenly she found herself automatically rolling her feet to keep herself in balance, Taylor looked around. In her preoccupation with her thoughts, she had run right past the end of the Boardwalk and was currently standing on the edge of the Boat Graveyard. Glancing around quickly, she didn't see another person around, something which actually suited her.

Ignoring the small voice that said she'd promised her dad to stick to the Boardwalk and not overdo things, Taylor took off at a fast run into the labyrinth of old warehouses and other derelict buildings. Soon she was standing on the edge of a dock looking out onto the tangle of huge ships, some of them outmassing the skyscrapers downtown.

When local industry had collapsed, the spot where the Boat Graveyard now occupied had been something of a staging ground for the dock workers, frightened and angry at the potential loss of their livelihoods. Several of the shipping companies based in Brockton Bay saw the signs of what was coming. They'd used the unrest to move more ships into harbor as a form of protest and to ensure they weren't walking away empty-handed. While the police had been mobilized and had made a few arrests, there wasn't much they could do to move the ships, which required sailors of which the only ones around were involved in the protests. So clearing the outer areas of the docks of the ships became all but impossible with more and more ships arriving to further screw things up. It had all ended with a bang; fights, gunfire and a deliberate sinking of a container ship by one of the protesters, blocking the harbor's mouth.

Everyone had a different opinion on whether the incident had been a symptom or the cause of the collapse. Either way,the result was the Boat Graveyard; an entire section of the coastline where cargo ships had sat for so long that many of their hulls had rusted through and taken on water.

Taylor slid around one huge bulk, then another, following the edge of the dock out onto the water. The concrete under her feet was old and and stained green with moss and algae, crumbling around the edges. Just a little further out, she saw exactly what she was looking for: a ladder up onto the deck of one of the ships.

It had been cut off about ten feet from the surface of the dock, likely to discourage squatters, of which Brockton Bay had all too many. But it was a jump that Taylor thought she could easily make.

Moving forward cautiously, Taylor paused a moment to look and listen. Fortunately, any human sounds she heard were distant enough that she put the source almost a mile away. Her new eyesight didn't detect the faintest hint of movement, indicating the lack of presence of any people nearby. Neither could her enhanced sense of smell detect any scents of people having been where she was standing any time recently. Only the faintest hint of burnt tobacco reached her nostrils.

Heading for the ladder, she leaped up and caught the lowest rung, climbing easily to the deck above. Then she found a hatch that was open, and entered the inside of the ship, all her senses on the alert. But just as it had been outside, the interior of the ship lay quiet and uninhabited.

It took Taylor a few minutes to make her way to the ship's hold. The passageways leading there were a bit of a maze, but despite that, she knew she'd easily be able to remember the way back. It took a good while long, but in the end, she found herself looking out into a large open space that was mostly empty, any cargo having been off-loaded a long time ago.

Other than a scattering of trash, that is. Clearly at some time in the past there had been people living here as everything from used diapers to old plastic jugs were piled together. Taylor could also detect signs that at some time in the distant past someone had used part of the hold as a toilet, the scents of both feces and urine lingering in air and causing her to wrinkle her nose fastidiously.

"Ugh."

At least the inside of this particular ship wasn't flooded, she thought in relief, although there were hints of dampness, the ship's bilge possibly having overflowed a bit and leaked into the hold. All in all, it looked like a great spot to test the last of her abilities.

Reaching toward that spot of pressure in her mind, Taylor tried to figure out exactly what it did, but there simply weren't any clues. All she could discern was that it felt destructive, although just how much, she didn't really know. Regardless, finding out was why she was here.

Taylor focused her attention on a large pile of trash that had been piled against one side of the hold, held there by a steel brace. It was probably about forty feet or so from where she was standing. Reaching out to unleash what was contained in her, she held onto it with metaphorical fingers before pushing it out towards the pile of trash.

What happened next left Taylor feeling a bit stunned and seeing spots, as what looked like an immense bolt of lightning flashed down from the air above to hammer into the spot she'd focused upon. As dazzling as the light had been to her sensitive eyes, equally stunning was the ringing sound that blasted outwards, echoing through the hold. It was as if the ship's hull was an immense gong that had been struck a mighty blow.

Hissing drops of molten steel blasted outwards from the site of the strike, a few of them only missing her because she twisted aside. The trash at the source of the strike was now burning merrily even as the ringing sound of the blow faded. Seconds later, with a rushing sound, water began to flood into the ship's hold. As water swirled around her shoes, Taylor scrambled back and ran out the door behind her.

Racing through the narrow passageways, easily avoiding banging her arms or head on the narrow hatches, Taylor was left to wonder just what the hell that was. Some form of electrical attack, that much she knew. It had looked like nothing so much as a bolt of lightning, jagged and arcing from its point of origin to where it hit. Which just happened to be exactly where she'd wanted it to.

Clearly it was her final ability and a scary one at that. There was no way she could use it on a person unless she wanted them dead and burned to a crisp. The bolt had been intense enough to melt steel. It was also something that she thought that she could do again. Maybe not more than twice in total, but certainly at least that many times. Scary indeed.

It had certainly been fortunate that her eyesight had recovered from the brilliant flash quickly enough for her to see the droplets of molten metal landing around her, Taylor thought, remembering the hissing sound they'd made as they hit the damp deck. At least none of them had hit _her_ , the few that came close easily dodged. That would not have been fun, even if she probably could have healed the resulting wound.

Once out of the ship and down the ladder, Taylor wasted no time leaving the general area. She kept her senses alert for any sign that anyone had heard the loud sound of the bolt and were coming to investigate it. Fortunately, the very isolation of the area worked in her favor. There simply wasn't anyone near enough to be able to figure out where it had originated from, assuming they heard it in the first place.

With a sense of relief, Taylor headed back towards her house. The tests today could definitely be considered a success. She now knew what that final ability was. She also knew that she could run like the wind, easily faster than any normal person.

From sheer exuberance, she cut across an empty lot as she neared Main Street, which ran parallel to the Boardwalk. Running across the snow and ice covering the frozen dirt, Taylor found them as easy to run across as the carefully cleared concrete sidewalks. Contemplating the slippery surface she was running on, she noted a few things about her sense of balance. Oddly, it didn't feel as if she couldn't slip, but more as if she were constantly doing whatever was needed to keep her body perfectly balanced as she raced across it

Regardless, it felt great as she ran lightly over the slick surface before hitting the sidewalk again on Main. From there, it was just another few miles back to her house and Taylor focused upon getting home.

Hitting the walk in front of her house, Taylor quickly gave herself a once over. Her pulse was still only barely elevated and she felt like she could continue running forever. Her breathing was even and her muscles were warm and loose. She noted with some trepidation that she wasn't even really sweating, something which might get her into trouble when they starting having gym outside again later in the spring. It was yet another thing she would need to be careful of, she decided.

Giving a shake of her head, Taylor headed inside. She had more things to document in her notebook, as well as more research to do once she'd taken a shower. She might even catch the bus and head over to the library, riding if for no other reason that it would probably be just as fast as jogging there. It would also provide a sense of normality to an increasingly weird week.

Or she might just stay here and see if there was anything she could figure out about the staff that was currently leaning against the wall next to her bed. Still apparently invisible to her dad, Umrahnuha remained an enigma. Whether it was the cause of her transformation, or just a symptom, was a mystery that Taylor really wanted to solve.

Not the only thing she wanted to figure out about what had happened, but it was definitely up there. Of course she might as well wish for world peace while she was at it, Taylor thought flippantly as she pulled off her sweats and tossed them onto the floor of her room. Pulling on a robe, she headed for the door.

"I will find out what you are and where you came from," she promised the staff after a quick glance at the crystal that still pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Heading towards the bathroom, she added, "You can count on that."

Whether Umrahnuha agreed or disagreed with her, he wasn't saying. Just as well, Taylor thought. If her staff suddenly started talking to her, she might reconsider the entire 'crazy' thing.

~~~~ATotD~~~~


	3. Chapter Three: Rapprochement

**Chapter Three: Rapprochement**

AN: One thing before you read this chapter: First, before you accuse me of softballing Taylor's confrontation with her bullies, there is a very good reason that it happened like this that has everything to do with aspects of her power. So don't freak out and make a million comments about how it was too much of a coincidence that things happened this way. On to the story.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

That evening, the two of them went Christmas tree shopping. It didn't take long for Taylor to make her choice. "This one, Dad."

Her dad glanced at the tree, which towered almost ten feet into the air. Looking uneasy, he said, "I think that might just be a bit big, Taylor. Plus, I'm not sure we can afford it."

That last part was said apologetically, and Taylor nodded. Money was tight, but this was something they could get. Besides, she thought, giving the big tree a long look, if it hadn't sold by now, what were the odds it was going to sell before Christmas?

An hour later, they were on their home with the tree taking up not only a large portion of Kurt's pickup's bed, but hanging out well behind. Taylor sat in the seat beside her dad, a faint smile playing over her lips.

As it had turned out, it had been easy to get a bargain price on the big tree. The lot's owner had just been happy to get rid of it at this late date, and they'd received seventy-five percent off, paying less than they had planned for a much smaller tree. Taylor had helped the two men load the tree, impressing her dad with how strong she was, although she had been careful not to be _too_ strong.

Now they were driving home and it was going to be perfect.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

"Taylor, stay back! Go grab the broom!"

"Dad! You're scaring it!"

Danny gave his daughter an incredulous look. "I'm scaring it?" Then he shrugged. "If you've got a better idea, why don't you show your old man how it's done?"

"I will."

He watched his daughter dart into the kitchen, then come back with a bowl of nuts. "Hey, those are for us," he whispered loudly.

Taylor gave him a hushing look, then whispered back quite a bit quieter, "We can spare a few for a poor hungry traveler."

Taylor proceeded to take a few peanuts, pecans, and almonds from the tray, before setting it on the coffee table. Then she carefully put just one of the nuts in her right hand and held it out coaxingly toward the tree.

For a while, there was no movement and the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound in the room. Danny was just beginning to get impatient, when a furry head emerged from the foliage, beady eyes focused on the peanut in in his daughter's hand.

Carefully, she moved it just a bit closer, then closer still, making soft little encouraging noises. Then with a lightning quick motion, the squirrel went and grabbed the nut off of Taylor's hand, disappearing back into the tree's shelter.

"Exactly what did that accomplish?"

"Shhh. We're getting there."

Taylor repeated her actions, her lips making little chittering sounds that were similar enough to a squirrel's that it surprised Danny. Who knew she was so good at mimicking an animal? When the squirrel emerged this time, it didn't immediately retreat after snatching the treat. Instead, it sat there, eating the nut, while studying his daughter. Then Taylor set the next nut on her shoulder and held out her hand towards the squirrel.

Danny wanted to chastise his daughter for encouraging a wild animal to climb onto her, worried about rabies as well as a million and one other things, but he stopped, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. Then the squirrel slowly moved forward, hesitantly and in fits and stops, but eventually, it was perched on Taylor's shoulder, pressed against her hair.

Softly, so as to not startle it, he whispered, "You know you're probably going to have lice."

Taylor just gave him a quick grin. Then she slowly fed the rest of the nuts she was holding to the squirrel as she gracefully walked towards the kitchen. Danny heard the back door open and close, then a couple of minutes later, open again. Then his daughter was back in the living room, a merry look on her face.

Danny gave her a raised brow look. "I take it that you have the squirrel sequestered somewhere other than our house?"

"Yep. I put Marco in the big tree outside. We're going to have to give him some more nuts though or he's going to starve before springtime."

"Marco?"

Taylor shrugged. "After Marco Polo. After all, he was a wide-ranging traveler, too."

His daughter looked so completely serious while she spoke that Danny started laughing. Then he deliberately ruffled Taylor's hair, causing her to bat at his hand. "Come on, kiddo, we've got a tree to decorate. Marco can just wait for a bit."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Danny got out of the car, glad to be home early for once. In the seat next to him were the few gifts that he had managed to be able to afford for his daughter. Nothing extravagant, but things that he thought she'd like. A couple of framed prints of pictures that she'd once admired as well as two books he was almost sure that she hadn't read. He just needed to wrap them before tomorrow morning.

Walking up to the kitchen door, he opened it and walked in to the smells of baking cookies. He called, "Taylor, I'm home! Something sure smells good!"

His daughter appeared at the doorway to the kitchen while Danny took off his boots and set them on a shelf in the mudroom especially for that purpose. "Hey, Dad. I'm baking cookies. Can you tell what kind?"

Taking a sniff, Danny wasn't sure, but decided to make an educated guess, "Christmas cookies?"

"Yep. I have some already iced if you want one."

"Absolutely!"

Entering into the kitchen, which was surprisingly clean considering the amount of cookies on display, both baked and not. Danny quickly grabbed a cookie from a tray that Taylor waved at and took a bite. The sweet and savory taste of sugar, vanilla, and spices filled his mouth and he chewed appreciatively. "Great cookies, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Dad."

Danny glanced over the various cookies that were being assembled, then his eyes paused at a large colorful tin that was half filled with iced sugar cookies. As a pang touched his heart, he hesitantly asked, "What's this, Taylor?"

His daughter ran a careful hand around the round edge of the tin and for a moment, didn't answer. Finally, she said, "It's the Holiday Tin, Dad."

Of course. It wasn't as if Danny hadn't really recognized it. But he just hadn't expected to see something that he was pretty sure was buried with the rest of his wife's things deep in the basement. Taylor must have found it when she was cleaning up down there. "I guess I meant more why is it out here and full of cookies?"

"I thought it was time to revive a tradition. We could take it over to Kurt and Lacey's house tonight. If you wanted to."

Tradition. The word felt almost bitter on Danny's lips and he couldn't vocalize it. Annette had always been big on traditions. So many different ones, both small and large, that only she could keep track of them all. Apparently, Taylor was taking over from her mother as the person who tracked family traditions.

The particular tradition that his daughter was referring to with the Holiday Tin was one that Annette had established with Lacey back when they were all young and newly married. She'd given Lacey a big tin of freshly baked cookies at Christmas, informing the other that she expected reciprocity during the next holiday at Easter.

After that, it had been carefully filled and exchanged every few months like clockwork, different cookies for each holiday, chosen by each woman. It was friendship and family and so much more. Danny hadn't been able to stand the sight of it after Annette's death and had packed it away into the basement even before he had done the same with the rest of his wife's things.

Lacey had never asked about the tin, probably not wanting to remind Danny of Annette, and he had been thankful of it. Taylor, on the other hand, had been just as devastated, but had mentioned it a couple of times in the past. In the end, though, her words had broken on the dam of Danny's silence and she'd given up.

Or so he had thought. Apparently she had just been biding her time. Danny had no idea what to say to his daughter who was looking at him with bright and sympathetic eyes. What did he want to do?

If he was to be honest, Danny thought, it was to continue to hide his head under the sand, keeping a certain distance from people because the closer you were, the easier it was to be hurt. But Taylor had already pierced his armor several times these Christmas Holidays, and he wasn't sure he could take hurting her again by rejecting something that clearly was so important to her.

And maybe just a little important to him as well. Staring at the colorful tin sitting out on the counter, Danny realized just how shallow his thank you and purchase of lunch for Kurt had been for the loan of the other's truck. But it had been so easy to dismiss the favor as just one between not-so-close friends, rather than that of friends who'd known each other for years and would do anything for one another.

All of this ran through Danny's head as he stared at the tin. Finally, though, he smiled faintly. "We could do that tonight, Taylor."

Eyes shining, she looked at him. "That's great, Dad. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too. And Taylor?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Lacey Werner heard the knocking on their front door from where she sat nestled against her husband's large frame. Looking at him quizzically, she asked, "Kurt, did you invite anyone over tonight?"

Kurt, his expression one of genial puzzlement, shook his head. "No, I didn't. I have no idea who it could be."

For a moment, Lacey felt a pang, as once upon a time, she would have know exactly who was calling upon her on a Christmas Eve. It would have been the Heberts, Danny and Annette, with their daughter Taylor in tow, filling her house with the sounds of laughter and joy as they chatted about nothing and everything at the same time.

That time, though, was long past, Annette's death leaving Danny a hollow man, while Taylor had become a ghost the last time Lacey had seen her. The girl had sat, silent and hunched, as if to protect herself from the wrath of a world that held no place for her in it. It had long enough after Annette's death that she would have expected the girl to have at least bounced back a little, but it hadn't happened.

To be truthful, Lacey put the blame squarely on Danny, who had never seemed to quite recover after his wife's death. Oh, he went to work and did a good job there, and seemed to be fine on the surface. But the problem was a much deeper one.

Danny had given up his close friendship with the two of them, pushing them away any time they tried to get close to him. They were still friends on that same surface, but there were no deeper roots that true friendship needed to flourish. The relationship between them all was slowly dying and Lacey had no idea how to revive it.

She'd had some hope when Kurt had told her Danny had asked to borrow his truck so that he and Taylor could get a Christmas tree. But nothing appeared to have come of it. Danny had delivered the truck back to her husband the next morning, thanking him for the loan and buying him lunch. That had been it.

Lacey's introspection was interrupted by boisterous noises coming from the door. She called, "Kurt! Who is it?"

He called back, "Come see for yourself, honey!"

Well, that was no help. Getting to her feet, Lacey straightened the Christmas sweater she wore, and walked into the living room. There she stopped, arrested by the sight in front of her. In a voice that quavered, she asked, "What's going on?"

Then Taylor, who was standing by her father, took a step forward and held out a colorful tin towards her. There was such a familiar look in her bright eyes that for just a second, Lacey swore she was seeing a ghost. "Merry Christmas, Lacey."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The day after Christmas found Taylor sitting, almost meditating, her feet crossed over each knee, as she tried to make heads or tails of the mass of input her enhanced senses were feeding her. Fights and discussions, as well as crying children and barking dogs, were just a few of the myriad things her ears could now hear. Her eyes, unless she closed them, were assaulted by the endless details of the inside of her room, from the tiny imperfections in the wood fibers that composed the paneling on her walls to the tumbling boulders of dust still present in her room, although in smaller numbers since she'd cleaned several times recently in an effort to eliminate them completely.

Even her nose picked up every scent of an old house that two people lived in, from last night's dinner, to the remnants of the fart her dad had let out on his way out to work that morning.

Taylor sense of touch was just as bad, as her texture of her clothing's fibers on her skin felt like millions of tiny brushes stroking her skin. Even the patterns of air wafting across her room and stirring the hairs on her arms made her react.

But it was getting better, even if by only a little. Each day that she practiced, things improved. The key to it was not to concentrate on any one thing, but rather to let the whole of it wash over her, filling her up while she just remained, wholly herself.

Taking a deep breath, and feeling the tiny hairs in her nostrils quiver from the air passing over them, Taylor opened her eyes. Then she stood. Moving with smooth precision, Taylor walked around the house, allowing herself to feel everything around her, to be immersed in the moment.

She made her way down to the ground floor of her home, then outside through the back door. Standing out in the crisp, winter air, Taylor smiled beatifically. Then she walked over the big tree in the back yard.

Her eyes and other senses drank in the sights and sensations around her, from the wind stirring the branches, to Marco snoozing in a hidden nook. Then she reached out and took a hold of the big tire that hung from a rope from one of the tree's thicker branches. Pulling it back and closing her eyes, Taylor pushed it forward hard, then waited, ready, to step aside.

A few seconds later, the side of tire whacked her hard in the face and upper thighs, causing Taylor to open her eyes. Okay, she thought, that hadn't gone exactly as planned. She was just glad that she was quite a bit tougher now, or that would have probably stung quite a bit.

She had felt the damn thing moving, but hadn't been able to use her senses well enough distinguish its exact path, or the moment it would contact her. There has just been too much data. So she was going to have to keep doing it so that she'd get better. She needed to get better.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Reading ahead in yet another textbook, Taylor stopped as something occurred to her. Schoolwork now seemed far too easy, lessons learned almost as soon as she read something. Would something like that work for more practical matters?

Putting her textbook aside, she effortlessly rose to her feet and crossed the room to the big bookcase over on the west wall. It was almost completely full, holding books ranging from the novels that Taylor loved, to those that had belonged to her mother, to the large number of much more practical books that belonged to her dad.

Present were books on subjects that ranged from sewing to woodworking to automotive repair, each sitting there looking nearly new, if a little dusty, as they really hadn't seen much use over the last several years. Taking out a book on carpentry, she glanced through the table of contents. It seemed eminently practical, so she decided to give it a try.

It only took Taylor an hour to devour the book, her reading speed, which had already been superlative, becoming much, much better since she'd gained her powers. Setting down the book, her mind filled with images of angles, cuts, and techniques that involved building and repairing a wide variety of things, she pondered the implications.

She was almost certain that she could use the knowledge she'd just gained. It just made sense, lying there in her mind's eye with a feeling like it had always been there. But how could she be sure? Then with a slow smile, Taylor knew exactly how she could find out one way or another.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

As Danny approached his house, he was surprised to see his daughter kneeling on the steps leading up to the front porch, her arm swinging back and forth. He parked out back in his usual spot, but instead of going in through the back door, he walked around to the front. Rounding the corner, he was treated to a most unusual sight.

"Hey, Dad."

"Taylor. What's going on?"

"I'm fixing the step that was broken. Or rather, I've fixed it because I'm pretty much done. What do you think?"

Danny stared at his daughter, who looked surprisingly clean despite the amount of sawdust that was everywhere else on the ground around her. Then he looked at what she had accomplished.

The front porch step which had been broken hadn't been a matter of just one loose or cracked board. Rather, the entire board spanning the horizontal had rotted, breaking completely in two, while the riser itself had cracked as well. It had made using the front steps unsafe and Danny had meant to get it for last two years. But he hadn't. And now Taylor had done it for him.

Because the repair looked good to him. Danny was no expert when it came to carpentry and home repair, the reason he'd books on both subjects, but he'd worked enough with his hands to recognize quality when he saw it. The new step in front of him looked right, matching the ones both above and below it.

Even the nails had been positioned in such a way that they matched the other steps. There were no gaps, or uneven edges, everything cut and trimmed precisely. Even when Danny took hold of the edge of the step and pulled, it didn't budge at all.

"Looks like a good job, kiddo. Just needs a couple of coat of paint."

Wordlessly, Taylor gestured towards the gallon of gray porch paint with a brush sitting on top of it that were sitting to one side. Danny grinned at her, which she returned. Reaching over quickly and ruffling her hair, he ignored her squawked, "Dad!"

"Well, how about you finish this up, while I make dinner?"

"Deal. But I want lasagna!" That last was aimed at his retreating back as Danny deliberately walked up and over the new step then entered his home through the front door.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

As it turned out, the book on sewing was just as easy to learn, as were the rest. Taylor had discovered with the book on carpentry, that while she knew how to do everything described between its covers, there were some things that she needed to do in a practical sense in order to be able to truly understand and accomplish her task.

With the carpentry, it had ranged from the first time using a saw and being tentative in her initial cuts, to nailing for the first time and how much force to use with the hammer. By her fourth nail, Taylor was driving them the entire way in with just one precise blow from the hammer held in a relaxed grip in her hand. Once she actually did something, it was easy to do it again.

The sewing she was learning to do was going to be incredibly useful in altering clothing as her body changed. Already, Taylor's jeans were just a little loose, her potbelly slowly shrinking under the daily runs, while her legs were firming up a lot, their muscle tone beginning to grow to match her actual endurance.

Taylor practiced altering some tops she had, decorating them with different patterns of embroidery in lieu of being able to replace them. As she worked, it occurred to her when she made her own costume, it might be just a little better than the efforts of most rookie heroes if she could properly tailor it to the vision in her mind.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor stared, aghast, at the mess in the bathroom. Her dad had partially missed the toilet when he'd been sick last night after the late night partying he'd engaged in with Kurt and Lacey. Puke was splattered over the side of the toilet and onto the linoleum floor, already turning brown and beginning to dry.

The scent of the beer he, Kurt, and Lacey had been drinking mingled with that of champagne, cigars, and stomach acid, with hints of the chile they'd had for lunch the day before.

Thank God that bad smells apparently didn't bother her nearly as much now, or Taylor was pretty sure she would be vomiting herself. Unfortunately, it didn't protect her eyes from seeing it all in excruciating detail.

When she had encouraged her dad to reconnect with old friends, the last thing that she had intended was for him to drink with them. But New Year's Eve was a big celebration in the Werner household, only made all the more important with the renewal of the relationship with her own family. They'd planned a blow out last night followed by a BBQ today, with football for afterward.

That is, if anyone wasn't too hung over to actually cook. Sighing, Taylor set to work cleaning it up. So much for the start of the New Year.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The holidays passed, and finally Taylor was on her way back to school, sitting next to her dad who was driving.

She and her dad had their plans in place. They were going to talk to all of her teachers and the principal, Mrs Blackwell. She still wasn't sure how well it would work, but it couldn't go any worse than her dad's talk to the parents of her bullies had.

Of the three sets of parents, the discussion with Sophia's mom, Mrs Hess, had probably gone the best. Not that it had been particularly effective, but she had apparently mostly believed Danny when he went to talk to her. But Sophia apparently didn't spend much time at home. She'd been in trouble before and was assigned a court appointed guardian who was actually officially in charge of her. Her mom didn't seem able to control her behavior, based upon what she'd said, not something that Taylor had trouble believing.

Of the others, Madison's parental discussion had gone the next best. Her parents apparently didn't really believe that their darling of a daughter could possibly be involved in something as boorish and vile as bullying, but they hadn't reacted too negatively. They had, however, cut her dad short and ushered him out rather quickly, which Taylor considered another swing and a miss.

It was with Alan Barnes and his wife, Helen, that things had gone off the rails. He and Danny had gotten into a heated argument after Alan had basically called Taylor a liar. It had only degenerated from there.

Next to Taylor, Danny Hebert's mouth was in a grim line. She knew he had been psyching himself up for the last couple of days for today's meetings, almost as if he were going in to negotiate a contract for the Dockworkers Union. She was touched that he took it that seriously, but she worried that he might overreact if things didn't go too well.

Parking, the two of them got out of the car. Danny turned to her and said, "Remember, Taylor, we don't have to get everything we want. But we will not compromise on the teachers and your principal looking out for you and stopping the bullying. I'd rather that than anyone get punished, even if they deserve it."

Nodding along, Taylor said, "Sure, Dad. Let's go."

Walking into the school this early was weird, as there was no one else around, other than the distant figure of one of the custodians. Not even the security guard that occasionally patrolled was here yet. More of a sop than anything else, he didn't do much good as he was careful to avoid bothering any of the teens with obvious gang affiliations. Walking around, she noticed that even the office was shut, no one there yet.

Danny gave Taylor a questioning look. She shrugged. "I guess we can see if any of my teachers are here yet. Maybe Mrs Knott as she usually gets here early to turn on the computers."

He nodded and she led him off. It only took a moment to climb the stairs to the second floor and find her homeroom. Unlike most of the rooms in the school, there were already lights on, Mrs Knott busy bustling around as she turned on computers and got things going. Dressed as usual in mannish pants and a matching shirt, she wasn't exactly the most fashionable of Taylor's teachers. But she was a favorite, if for no other reason than she didn't allow any nonsense in her classroom, providing a safe haven most of the time.

When Taylor opened the door to the room, Mrs Knott spun around quickly in surprise. Her obvious alarm faded though when she saw who her visitors were. "Taylor? What are you doing here so early?"

Taylor gave her a warm smile, refusing to allow shyness or awkwardness to define the moment. It was something she was slowly learning. That how you greeted the world was how the world responded back to you. It had worked during the break with her dad, Kurt, Lacey, and a few others, and it should work today as well. Momentarily, she wondered if it was a part of her power, as things just seemed to go better for her when she put out a positive vibe. Then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking. Regardless, she was going to use it on her teachers and her principal today.

"Mrs Knott? This is my dad, Danny Hebert. We're actually here early to talk to you."

Mrs Knott tentatively held out her hand to Taylor's dad. "It's nice to meet you, Danny. Please, call me Christine. How can I help you?"

Danny shook her hand gently in his and shook it, before releasing it. "Nice to meet you as well, Christine. What I wanted to talk to you about was the situation with Taylor. How she has been getting along here at school. And some of the things that have happened."

Looking suddenly nervous again, Mrs Knott folded her arms in front of her. Almost defensively, she asked, "What are you trying to say, Mr Hebert?"

Taylor automatically noted the return to formality, but chose to ignore it. Stepping forward, so that she was half a step in front of her dad, she gave her teacher a disarming smile. "Actually, Mrs Knott, I wanted to ask for your help."

"My help?"

Taylor nodded. "Yes. Your help. I don't know if you're aware, but I've been the victim of a bullying campaign for quite a while here at school. Really, ever since I first started high school here at Winslow. It's steadily been getting worse."

Mrs Knott's lips tightened a little. Cautiously, she said, "I didn't know, Taylor. I'm sorry to hear about this happening to you. Why are you telling me?"

Taylor faced her squarely, her arms at her sides, as open and defenseless as she could make herself. "Because, Mrs Knott, I need your help. Help with my bullies. Help staying safe. I can't do it without you. Please, please, won't you help me?"

Seeing the sudden sympathy in the other woman's eyes, Taylor knew she'd gotten through to her. The slow, resolute way that Mrs Knott pursed her lips was absolutely crystal clear. But it wasn't until Taylor heard the words, "How can I help?" that she knew she'd won. At least the first battle, if not the entire war.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor and her dad managed to talk to four of her teachers before students started arriving. All of them agreed to help Taylor, although she wasn't sure she believed Mr Gladly. He was too focused upon being the likable, popular teacher to be an effective disciplinarian. Too often she had suffered in his classes as he turned a blind eye to what was going on, plus his frequent use of so-called study groups allowed her bullies to often gang up on Taylor, stealing her homework or worse.

But she had quoted several instances of some of the things that had happened in his class, using the notebooks that her dad was lugging around for her. Looking surprising sympathetic, Mr Gladly had been apologetic and promised to do better in making sure no one bothered Taylor under his watch.

Now Taylor was missing her first period class, as she and her dad sat cooling their heels outside of Principal Blackwell's office. Since they didn't have an appointment, apparently they had to wait until she somehow found the time to see them. Next to her, Danny smiled and said, "Don't worry, Taylor. I deal with crap like this all of the time. It's just a bargaining tactic. Get the other guy impatient because you make him wait and he's oftentimes more likely to settle for a lesser demand. Petty bureaucrats are some of the worst about doing it, too."

"I get it, Dad. I just don't like it. We still have three more teachers to see today."

"Look, why don't you head over to your locker? I know you don't keep much in there, but you did say you needed to get a pen, or something, right?"

Taylor nodded. "I do. I'll be right back, Dad."

She quickly got to her feet, leaving her heavy backpack behind. Hopefully, nobody had messed with the few items she'd left in her locker over the break, mostly pens, pencils, and a couple of cheap pads for taking notes. Just blanks ones, since she was wary of leaving anything she'd filled out at school as it had the habit of disappearing, or turning up badly damaged and stained. Momentarily, her mind turned to her mother's flute, but she refused to dwell on such a negative memory.

It was weird walking down the halls of her school with her enhanced senses registering what was happening around her. It wasn't just the smells, of too many bodies with dubious personal hygiene too close together, but rather the entire gestalt of the place. Scents, sounds, and the constant visual clash of gang graffiti assaulted her senses as she walked along.

Taylor could hear an endless series of whispers emanating from every classroom she passed, as well as the droning sounds of teachers lecturing, each of them vying for the trophy of most boring. She noted a new gang tag that had apparently gone up just since her arrival at school today, courtesy of Empire 88. She was certain that there would be another new tag before the day was over as the members of the ABB sought to match their closest rivals. They'd disappear in a few days, painted over, only to reappear again at some later date.

From a bathroom around the corner, she could hear crying. Taylor almost stopped and checked on the person within, but halted when she realized that the bathroom in question was a boy's, as was the voice. Still, she hated to see someone in such pain that they risked being caught crying in this school. Mocking and torment was the least someone could expect, especially someone of the male gender, if exposed during a weak moment.

Standing there uncertain, Taylor heard the bell ring ending first period. Deciding that there was nothing she could do as the hallways were already filling up with other students, as would the bathroom soon as well, she moved on.

Arriving at the bottom floor hallway that her locker was situated in, Taylor paused again, her nostrils assaulted by the scent of rotten blood. It was a disgusting smell and too closely resembled what she'd smelled emanating from the 'special' trashcan in her home's bathroom for it to be anything other than from women's tampons. It was a great deal older and more intense, though, making her glad of something she'd learned about her powers.

Taylor had discovered last week that her enhanced senses were exactly that, enhanced to be able to detect sights, sounds, and odors that more ordinary senses could not. But she had also learned that even the most disgusting smells, some that would have sent her stomach heaving desperately before, only registered as 'bad' now. She discovered that little factoid New Year's Eve while cleaning up the vomit that her dad had left in the bathroom after a late night of drinking with Kurt and Lacey as he reconnected with some of his oldest friends.

The puke, although it had smelled intensely of human stomach acids, stale beer, and other things, hadn't even made Taylor's stomach blip. Now, the smell of old, rotting bloody tampons was the same way. To her sensitive nose, it dominated the halls surrounding the lockers, likely emanating from one of them.

God, what had someone done, Taylor wondered? As a prank, it was in poor taste. Plus, who wouldn't have already complained if they discovered that their locker had something like that inside of it? After all, every one who was in school today would have been by their lockers before now.

Then, like an icy wind down her back, the realization washed over Taylor that everyone who was at school today had likely been by their lockers except for her. Now, feeling even more wary, she carefully approached her locker.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

"Mr Hebert? Principal Blackwell will see you know."

The school secretary, a sallow woman with jowls like a bulldog, ushered Danny forward like she was showing him into a morgue. He opened the indicated door without knocking and walked inside. "Mrs Blackwell?"

The woman behind the desk did not stand upon his entrance, something which put Danny's hackles up. Instead, she sat behind her desk, making him come to her, like a potentate welcoming a parishioner. He'd seen similar tactics used in the past by others ranging from businessmen to government officials, and it never got any more enjoyable to be on the receiving end.

Principal Emilia Blackwell was a skinny woman with dirty blonde hair and one of those severe bowl-cut haircuts that Danny couldn't see the appeal of. It certainly wasn't professional, if that was the look she was going for. Neither did it go with how she was dressed, which was more like she worked in a mortuary than a school, her black blouse, sweater, skirt, and shoes all matching in a less than flattering way.

Faded blue eyes looked out from a face sans any trace of make up as she asked, "Mr Hebert, what can I do for you? Also, where's Taylor? I understood that you both wanted to see me."

Danny sat down without being invited. "Yes, we did. I sent Taylor off to grab something from her locker when I wasn't sure how long the delay was going to be until you found time in your busy schedule to see us."

His words, despite their almost mocking nature, were said in such a sincere tone that the other woman bought into them. Annoyance faded, and she nodded jerkily. "Yes, yes, I am busy. I have a large school to run. How much longer do you think your daughter will be?"

Vague feelings of alarm sent chilled fingers down Danny's spine as he realized that Taylor had been gone for quite a while. She should have been back by now. He stood up. "Actually, you're right. Taylor should have been back by now. She was just going to her locker. Maybe I should check on her. Do you have someone who can show me the way?"

Principal Blackwell's lips pursed as if she were sucking on a lemon. With a sigh, she stood as well. "I'll show you, Mr Hebert, if you will at least give me a breakdown of whatever it is you want to talk about on the way there."

Danny nodded. "Deal."

He followed the woman out of her office, hoping that nothing was really wrong. After the first few steps, he began to explain.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

It didn't take long for Taylor to figure out that the smell was coming from her locker. Or that several of the students loitering around were in on whatever was happening. The old her probably wouldn't have seen the eyes following her as she approached her locker. Or the expectant expressions on so many faces. Or even the way that Emma and Madison lurked off to one side, almost hidden by a cluster of other students.

The old her certainly wouldn't have heard the faint patter of footsteps behind her that almost matched her own. A person was following her, and it wasn't for anything remotely beneficial.

This ability to parse the data from her enhanced senses and make use of it was another thing that Taylor had discovered and worked on over the last couple of weeks. Where initially, the sheer amount of input had overwhelmed her brain until she hadn't been able to make heads or tails of it, after spending a part of each day for the past two week practicing, she was able to take in all of the input from her senses and create a picture of the world around her.

Sounds, odors, vibrations, and vision all combined to project a map of her surroundings and of what the people in it were doing. The more input she received, the more fully she could flesh out that map.

It was how she had been able to figure out what was going on simultaneously in twenty different homes in her neighborhood, including some which she'd rather not have, and it was the same way she knew it had to be Sophia Hess behind her. The stalking gait, the faint oily aroma of her hair products, even the way she breathed, were all telltale signs. Taylor had been close enough to the other girl in the past to notice these things even without enhanced senses. Now, it was child's play to envision Sophia behind her, her usual bored expression absent, replaced with one of cruel anticipation as she prepared herself for violence.

Unfortunately, enhanced senses or no, it wasn't a good situation that Taylor found herself in. Sophia was strong, confident, and more than a little violent. A track star and athlete, the African-American girl was physically more than a match for the old her. If there was something about to go down aimed at Taylor; a push, a shove, or something worse, it would be she who would execute it.

Of course, Sophia wasn't a match for Taylor now, but there was no way that she could reveal that or she would be outing herself. Even fighting to a draw would be far too revealing. So Taylor would need to do her best just to accept whatever was about to happen until she could get a teacher involved. After all, Mr Gladly's class was just around the corner. He should come running if there was evidence of a fight happening. Unless, that is, he'd already headed off to the teacher's lounge.

All of this was going through Taylor's mind as she walked up to her locker. Then she opened it, confirming what she had all but known before. Yep, the bottom of her locker was full of feminine waste products. Just by opening it, she sent a wave of foul odor wafting away from her locker. Around her there were several people making gagging sounds as they fought back the urge to vomit. That's when Sophia hit Taylor from behind.

Taylor felt like she had all the time in the world to move before one of the black girl's hands hit the middle of her back and began pushing her towards the locker. But she didn't. Nor did she allow her head to be banged against the locker's edge by a brutal forearm strike, as was clearly intended, taking the blow on a hunched shoulder instead. However, she also didn't allow herself to be pushed into her locker either.

Having seen what was inside, there was no way she was going into it, no matter if the result was her being outed or not. Bracing her slim arms on the sides of her locker, Taylor resisted the weight at her back that tried to push her inside.

"Get the fuck in there, Hebert! It's where you belong!" Sophia's harsh voice rang in her ear, but Taylor merely ducked her head again to avoid a second blow and held on grimly, although she did allow her arms to bend slightly as if she were growing tired. Absently, she noted the insects crawling around in the filth inside of her locker, everything from roaches to ants and spiders, their skittering sounds now audible to her ears.

"Get her in the locker, Sophia!" Emma's harsh whisper was also easily heard over the drone of the other student's voices, clearly recognizable even without Taylor's enhancements.

"I'm trying! Skinny bitch is stronger than she looks! Help me!"

Second later, there was a second body pressing against Taylor, trying to force her into her locker. She bent her arms further, but quickly realized that she was in the unpalatable situation of either allowing herself to be put inside her locker with the disgusting mess, or continuing to resist far longer than someone of her size and build should be able. Although, if she fell just right, she might be able to force the other two girls headfirst into her locker, at the very least banging their heads.

Taylor was just about to give it a try as an alternative to going in herself, when a loud voice rang out, "Get the _hell_ away from my daughter!"

It was followed immediately by, "Miss Hess! Miss Barnes! Unhand that girl right this moment!"

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Danny followed Taylor's principal down the school hallway, utterly annoyed by her response to his explanations of why he was here talking to Taylor's teachers. "So you don't believe that there is any pattern of harassment or bullying of my daughter? That there's nothing that requires anyone keeping a closer eye on her?"

Principal Blackwell shook her head. "No, I don't, Mr Hebert. If something like that was going on here, I'd know about it. While not as serious as some of the issues I deal with, gang violence among them, something of that nature would still be reported by a teacher."

"Because only a teacher is believable?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"My daughter brought all of this to the attention of several of her teachers and to your office as well, speaking to the vice-principal about this. She was told that unless she had proof of what was going on, there was nothing that could be done about it. Your vice-principal practically accused her of making it up as a cry for attention."

"I am sure that Vice-principal Watson did nothing of the sort, Mr Hebert. I am also sure that he did indicate that there had to be a burden of proof before any action could be taken. Otherwise, anyone could accuse anyone else of wrongdoing and be believed. It would be chaos."

From somewhere up ahead of them there was a commotion, students moving in swirling patterns as they jockeyed for a better look at what was happening. Danny exchanged a quick glance with Principal Blackwell and the two of them quickened their pace.

Then there was a girl in front of them blocking their way. She exclaimed, "Principal Blackwell! I was hoping to run into you. Can I talk to you a second?"

To her credit, the skinny woman shook off the girl's hand and eeled around her. "Later, Madison. I have to find out what's happening."

Danny didn't even bother trying to avoid the girl and shouldered her aside so he could move past her. Then he was around the corner, and saw what the commotion was all about. One part of his mind noted in an almost clinical fashion that this was all of the so-called 'proof' that Principal Blackwell would need. The other part was too busy losing itself in a rage so black it almost stole the breath from his lungs. He shouted, "Get the hell away from my daughter!" Then he was moving forward, fists clenched.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The pressure holding Taylor immediately disappeared, even Sophia retreating before the angry figure of her dad. Although there was a reluctance in how she moved back, as if she wanted to fight back against even an adult. Taylor managed to keep her brows down, even as astonishment at just how aggressively violent the other girl was registered. Then she was engulfed in her father's arms.

"Are you okay, kiddo? Did they hurt you?"

It wasn't hard to pretend to be breathless. The situation had been getting dicey after all. "I-I'm o-okay, I t-think. They were trying to push me into my locker. It's full of really nasty stuff."

Releasing most of his grip on Taylor, but keeping an arm around her shoulders, Danny looked at what she pointed out to him. Watching her dad blanch at the sight in her locker made Taylor feel better about resisting, even if it could have resulted in her being outed.

What she didn't expect was for him to suddenly point to a boy standing to one side, watching in fascination as the drama before him unfolded, and growl, "You! Call 911. Report an assault. Do it _now._ "

The boy, who Taylor thought she recognized from one of her classes, did as he was told, unable to withstand the force of her dad's fury. She looked back over her shoulder, noticing the way that Principal Blackwell was standing there, loudly berating two of the three girls who had been behind this. Oddly, most of the focus of her comments were aimed at Sophia, even though both she and Emma had been caught red-handed trying to stuff Taylor in her locker. Madison, probably because she'd been standing back, had so far escaped notice and had already disappeared.

The next hour passed quickly, full of angry shouts and heated arguments. Principal Blackwell hadn't known about the 911 call until police and paramedics arrived in the middle of her directing students back to class, far too many of them having ignored the tardy bell to hang around and watch the drama unfolding in their midst.

She hadn't reacted well to the first police officer on the scene, and had tried to tell him to leave. Fortunately, Danny had started talking and it wasn't long before everyone but the paramedics were gathered in the school's office area. The two paramedics had merely given Taylor a quick once over, and after pronouncing her nominally okay, left.

The parents of both Sophia and Emma had been notified to come and pick up their children, as there was a problem with their behavior. Taylor had overheard Principal Blackwell making the calls. At the moment, the police were talking to her dad while she listened in, having already questioned her principal.

"Mr Hebert, what did you witness happening just now with your daughter?"

Danny said, "I saw two girls trying to force my daughter into a waste-filled locker, while they were egged on by several other girls. The names of the two girls I saw were Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes."

"Are you aware of how that waste got into your daughter's locker, Mr Hebert?"

Shaking his head, Danny said, "No, I don't. I suspect they put it there some time earlier."

The older of the two cops, a gray-headed, heavyset man wearing a name tag that said 'Dawkins' on it, nodded. "Yeah, it's likely. What do you want to do about this, Mr Hebert? What I mean is, do you want to press charges?"

Danny's answer was immediate. "Yes. I do. They were caught red-handed assaulting my daughter so yes, I want to press charges."

Dawkins nodded. "Then that's what will happen. Ms Hebert, do you have any injuries you didn't tell the paramedics about? Did they hurt you?"

Taylor almost said no, but realized that if she did so, it would likely lessen the severity of the her tormentors' punishment. "Just bruises, I think. My arms are sore because I was really struggling not to be put in that locker. I think I have some bruises on my back, but I'm not sure. It's sore as well, where they were pushing on me."

The younger of the two cops, who was probably just a few years younger than her dad, pressed his lips together as if to keep from saying something. Instead, it was Dawkins who said, "Okay, here's how it's going to go down. We'll be placing the two of them under arrest and taking them downtown. I'll need the two of you to follow us to the police station. Once there, I'll pass you off to a detective, who will take a statement. They may do a quick physical exam using a female officer, Taylor, to check your injuries. After that, you can go on home. You'll be contacted by the detective in charge of your case in a few days. Do you have any questions?"

Both Taylor and her dad shook their heads. As the two cops moved away, he leaned down and whispered, "Are you sure you're okay to do all of this, kiddo?"

She nodded. "I'm okay, Dad. I'm just glad you got there when you did. Imagine if you hadn't, or worse, if I'd come to school today without you."

Danny's face looked grim. "I am imagining it. If I hadn't had a feeling that something was wrong, I never would have come looking for you. I'm also going to try my damnedest to get you into a different school as soon as possible."

It was weird that her dad phrased it like that. He had a feeling. Still, it was lucky for Taylor. Her bullies were routed and she had been proven to be the victim in the case. Even if she didn't feel like a victim. More than anything, she wished she could have just dealt with the two girls using her new powers. They wouldn't have stood a chance against her, and she would have had justice. At least at that moment. It was, after all, far too likely they would have managed to twist things around on her somehow, perhaps making her the aggressor or something similar.

Taylor's thoughts were interrupted by Principal Blackwell's voice coming from just behind her. "Mr Hebert, you can't seriously be pressing charges against these two girls, can you? I mean, I also witnessed what happened, and for a prank gone wrong, don't you think this is an overreaction?"

For a moment, Danny looked like he was going to explode. Instead, he managed to control himself enough to say, "I am completely serious about pressing charges against them. I can't believe you would even ask me that. What would you do if it was your daughter someone tried to force into that locker? Would you seriously do _nothing_?"

Before Principal Blackwell could respond, Danny raised his voice loudly enough to carry across the room, "Officer Dawkins! What will you be charging these two girls with?"

The burly officer, who had just finished handcuffing Emma's hands behind her back, shrugged. "Assault. Unlawful imprisonment. Child endangerment. Possibly even kidnapping. The final charges will be up to the DA to ultimately decide. But that's the way I think it'll go."

For the first time, Taylor paid attention to the girls who had attacked her. Emma, who always looked so put together, was now silently sobbing, her head hanging low so that her long red hair covered most of her face. Taylor noted without sympathy the way her hands twisted together behind her back as if the cuffs hurt her wrists.

Sophia Hess, on the other hand, was glaring at everyone present, her gaze fierce. When she saw Taylor looking at her, her stare intensified, as if she would kill her with just her eyes. Sophia's teeth visibly ground together when all she got was a blank stare in response, instead of anything resembling fear.

Principal Blackwell still wasn't quite done, however. She insisted, "I understand how you're feeling. But ruining the records of these two girls isn't the best way to go about fixing this. Once they're arrested, there will be a record of what happened that can't be expunged. Please, don't do this."

Taylor grabbed her dad's arm when he looked like he was about to lose it. It focused his attention on her, and away from the school official. "Let's go wait by the car, dad, if that's okay?"

In a soothing voice, Danny said, "Of course it is, Taylor. Let's go."

The rest of the day passed in a blur. When Taylor and her dad finally got home, it was late and she was more than ready to go to bed, four hours of sleep or not. It remained up in the air whether there would be any significant charges levied against either Sophia or Emma. Something had happened while they were down at the police station.

She was pretty sure that at least one of girls hadn't spent the night in jail as her dad had seen Emma leaving with her father, Alan Barnes, even before they had. If they let Emma out so quickly, they might have done the same with Sophia. It seemed utterly unfair, and hopefully they'd find out more over the next couple of days.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Sophia had finally been able to make her one phone call and she'd called her assigned guardian, Agent Janet Evans. The woman had picked up on third ring. She'd also stayed silent while Sophia had explained what had happened, although she'd put her own spin on things.

Now she just had to wait until someone came to get her out. In the meantime, she brooded. It seemed impossible in retrospect that things could have gone as wrong as they did. Not only with Hebert not going into the locker, but how had they not known her dad was in school with her? You'd think that someone's parent accompanying them to school would have been big news, even for a loser like Hebert, but none of the other students had tipped any of them off.

Worse, Madison had utterly failed to slow down Principal Blackwell, which was her only job. Well, it was actually to slow down or stop any teachers who might be passing by, but it amounted to the same thing. Sophia ignored the fact that it was supposed to be both Madison and Emma's jobs to do that. After all, Emma had ended up trying to help her put Hebert in the locker.

How the _hell_ had that skinny bitch managed to hold out so long? When Sophia had hit her with her full weight, she'd expected Hebert to fold and for it to be easy to stuff her skinny ass in from there. But she'd somehow managed to catch her hands on the edges of the locker and she'd held on like death. Then when she'd twice slammed a vicious forearm towards the back of the other girl's head, she had hunched over at just the right moment to take the hit on her shoulder rather than her head. Talk about lucky.

There had been a couple of times when Hebert's arms were bending that Sophia had almost crowed in triumph at what was about to happen, but in the end, she'd managed to hold out the entire time. That was actually something that she could almost understand, as she, herself, would have had to be knocked unconscious before someone managed to get her into that locker with all of that disgusting shit. Still, it was almost beyond the bounds of credibility that Hebert had managed the same.

Sophia slammed her hand hard against the cinder block wall, relishing the sharp sting on her palm. That stupid little bitch! Just wait until she got her hands on Hebert again. She'd make her regret not getting into that locker. She'd-

There was the slamming of a cell door interrupting Sophia's dark thoughts. She looked up to see blue eyes in a heart-shaped face staring in at her. Her guardian was finally here, her expression one of someone looking at animal in a cage. Snooty bitch.

Sullenly, Sophia got to her feet, mostly tuning out all of the garbage the other woman was saying. How someone as Barbie as this bitch managed to get her position in the PRT was beyond her understanding. Still, the woman got her out of jail, so she was at least competent at something.

The bland woman at her side couldn't engage Sophia's attention for long. As she stalked off beside her guardian, all of her thoughts were focused upon Taylor Hebert.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Emily Piggot pursed her lips as she read the report on the incident. "Assault? Unlawful imprisonment? Child endangerment? Any evidence that at any time Sophia Hess used a Parahuman ability in her attack on the Hebert girl?"

Miss Militia shook her head. "No, director. It seems to have all occurred in her civilian identity. I don't think that makes it look any better however. Will you be revoking her probation?"

Feeling she was a traitor somehow, Emily shook her head. "Doubtful, Miss Militia. Not unless additional evidence arises. No, we'll fire Agent Evans and transfer Hess to Arcadia, tasking the Wards there to keep an eye on her. She'll also be confined to base for a minimum of two months with monitor duty during most of that time. She can go out and patrol with a senior Protectorate member or not at all."

"Are you going to at least have Armsmaster interview her with his lie detector? To make sure she isn't going to do anything else to embarrass us?"

Emily nodded. "That's an astute suggestion, Miss Militia. Please make sure to contact Armsmaster and have him schedule a time. Oh and contact the BBPD and let them know that the PRT is taking over the case for Sophia Hess."

"What about the Barnes girl? Do you want her case also buried?"

"Wasn't her father the one who vouched for Hess during her trial?"

Miss Militia's answer was brief. "Yes."

That was at least one thing she could get right. Emily answered, "Then no. Anything else, Miss Militia?"

"No, Director Piggot."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

As Hannah closed the door to Director Piggot's office behind her, she took a deep breath, forcing down her anger. In her opinion it was neither right, nor fair, that Sophia Hess wasn't spending the next two years in a juvenile institution, until such time as she turned eighteen. The girl had been a problem for some time. With how Armsmaster had all but abrogated his responsibility for the Wards, placing most of it with the Piggot-led PRT, and the remainder on her own shoulders, Hannah had all too much experience in dealing with those problems.

After all, she'd almost lost track of how many forms that she'd filled out because of incidents of excessive force since Sophia had joined. To someone with Hannah's perfect memory, that was telling. Plus, it would be her who would be expected to notify Sophia of her punishment, as well as play hatchetman with the Brockton Bay Police Department. They definitely wouldn't like the call she would be making in a few minutes. Worse, she couldn't explain why it was going down the way it was. Obfuscations of this nature played right into the rivalry between the two branches of law enforcement, causing it to slowly increase in intensity.

Hannah wasn't in the least surprised that the director had cut Emma Barnes loose. While nominally she had been supposed to be a stabilizing influence on Sophia, it certainly hadn't turned out that way in the end. The girl who had been bullied, Taylor Hebert, supposedly had at one time some form of relationship with Miss Barnes, so it was likely the targeting of the girl had been her idea.

She didn't waste any sympathy for the girl. It was doubtful she'd do any actual time and her criminal record would likely be expunged at some point in the future, likely at the end of her probation if she kept her nose clean. However, any criminal record of this type would make her ineligible for any ordinary public school here in Brockton Bay. So Emma would either have the choice of the special needs school at Central, or be forced to attend the private Christian school, Immaculata, available to those with the money to pay for it.

Good riddance to bad rubbish, she decided. Then chastised herself for the unkind thought. It _was_ possible that all of this had just been a prank gone wrong. She'd let the justice system decide all of that. Meanwhile, she had a Ward to inform of their punishment, as well as a police department to notify of a jurisdictional takeover. At least she'd also be telling Colin that he had an interview to conduct, which would finally pull him away from whatever minor improvement he was currently making to his gear to actually perform his leadership duties as head of the Protectorate ENE.

Even better, she didn't even need to chastise herself for feeling a sense of satisfaction at doing so, she decided, a slight smile curving her lips behind her scarf.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The rest of the school week passed rather quickly for Taylor. She hadn't had to deal with any more bullying, not without Emma and Sophia there as catalysts. A few of the girls, especially Madison Clements, made half-hearted attempts to talk about her as she walked by, but she could tell their hearts weren't really into it. That became even less so when Mrs Knott gave three random girls detention for 'unkind remarks' she overheard as she was passing nearby.

The look she gave Taylor afterward was a maternal one, and it filled her with a sense of warmth that she hadn't felt for a teacher for some time. It made her feel good that she had at least one ally on the school's faculty.

It also didn't hurt that Taylor had stopped dressing in the manner of a victim. Instead of her loose, baggy jeans and even baggier sweatshirts and hoodies, she was now wearing more fitted clothes, although nothing tight enough to display her midsection which was still a bit chunky, although it was flattening out surprisingly fast likely due to the amount of running she did every morning and some afternoons.

Neither she nor her dad had heard anything further from Detective Simmons about what was going to be happening to Emma or Sophia. Taylor knew her dad had left several messages with the detective, but so far, he had not returned any of them. She hoped he did soon or Danny was going to head down there to talk to the man in person.

Taylor, while she wouldn't mind Emma or Sophia ending up in juvie, didn't really care so long as she didn't have to attend classes with either of them or go to the same school.

Oddly, school felt different, and not just because she wasn't being bullied nonstop. While Taylor still didn't have friends, she wasn't quite the social pariah she'd been and a few people had talked to her who hadn't dared to before.

To be truthful, Taylor was having a hard time focusing her attention on school anyway. Her recently discovered ability to learn how to do things by just reading about them was taking up most of her free time. Her ideas both for fixing her clothes and later making a costume had blossomed since she had first thought about them days ago.

Since then, Taylor had read books on metal-working and welding, as well as how to rebuild an engine from start to finish. She'd also borrowed two books from the library about computer coding and read those, using them to make changes to the actual code of her own personal computer at home.

Not all of the skills she was gaining were immediately useful. On one hand, sewing gave her options when it came to the costume she'd eventually need when she went out. She would be able to sew whatever she needed. But other skills might be needed as well, to make the best costume possible, such as metal-working, or even welding. After all, even low level crooks could be carrying a gun. While she was tough, she definitely wasn't bullet-proof.

But if she could figure out a way to fix metal plates to her clothes, either as inserts between layers of cloth, or on the surface, that might go a long way towards protecting her. While her dad didn't actually own a welder, he did have one of those grinders that you could attach a cutting wheel to. If she could get a hold of some sheet metal of some kind, she might be able to carry out her idea. However, before she did all of that work, Taylor wanted to do some more research on the internet on bullet ballistics and materials penetration.

Which was one of two things Taylor had planned for Saturday. The other thing she wanted to do was to check out more books, this time on karate and other martial arts to see if she would be able to learn them as easily as she did more cerebral skills. If Taylor could learn martial arts from merely reading books then practicing the skills, that would be a huge advantage for her.

Friday night found her at home reading a book on Calculus. She'd just finished making dinner and it was waiting in the oven, the savory scents of spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread filling the entire house. As soon as her dad was home, they would sit down and eat.

Calculus turned out not to be quite as easy to understand as everything else had, making Taylor wonder if she was approaching the limit of her ability. Still, she was able to do a section's problems after reading through it twice, then using the book as a reference. It appeared that her power had a cap that meant if a subject was that much ahead of her current knowledge, it required much more work on her part. Although in hindsight, that seemed rather obvious.

Her attention was attracted by the sound of the back door opening. When she didn't hear a cheerful greeting, she called out, "I hope that's my dad, or I'm going to be using this pepper spray on whoever it is."

Danny appeared a second later at the doorway to the den. "Hey there, kiddo. It's me. Something sure smells good."

Tilting her head in puzzlement, Taylor said, "Lasagna and garlic bread. There's also salad in the fridge. What's wrong?"

Her dad slumped down in his recliner with a sigh of relief. He suddenly looked older than his years, and it made Taylor's heart flutter to see him that way. Maybe she should use her healing power on him, just in case, she thought. After all, Danny Hebert wasn't getting in younger and he did work his tail off for the Dockworkers Union. If she lost him, she didn't know what she'd do.

After a moment, he said, "I got a call back from Detective Simmons today."

Taylor hesitated. "That's good, right?"

"It would be, except it was to tell me that the district attorney decided not to press charges. He said it had something to do with the PRT interfering with the investigation. But his hands were tied as far as explaining any further."

Anger flared in Taylor. "Does that mean that they're going to just let Sophia and Emma back into school?"

Danny shook his head. "I already called Principal Blackwell. Because of the severity of the offense, both girls were expelled. Also, because they were expelled by Winslow High, they can't be enrolled in any regular public school until completing several courses at Central."

All Taylor knew about Central High was that it was the special needs school for anyone who had gotten in trouble with the law. It was supposedly full of kids with drug offenses, as well as those who had been busted doing violent assaults and were either too young for juvie, or for one reason or another hadn't made the cut, overcrowding being another big issue.

"Does that mean that both Sophia and Emma are now going to be going to Central? Because that isn't so bad."

Danny shook his head. "Sophia, maybe. But Alan can probably get Emma into Immaculata, the private Christian high school. They don't have any rules like the public schools, making them a better choice. It'll just cost him a lot more than a public education as they charge a significant tuition, more than some colleges."

Taylor got up and perched on the arm of her dad's chair. "I'm sorry, Dad. I know you wanted them to be punished."

"No," he corrected, patting her knee. "What I wanted was for you to be safe. And you will be. But it would have been nice to see them punished for their behavior."

"I just don't understand what happened. What does it even mean that the PRT interfered with the investigation? Why would they do that?"

Danny shook his head. "I'm not sure, kiddo. Simmons said it usually happens when there's Parahuman involvement in the case. But I don't see how that's possible, do you?"

For a moment, sheer panic stole Taylor's breath, then common sense and her own intelligence pulled her out of it. There was absolutely no way that the PRT could know about her power. She'd never even used it in public other than that once at the Boat Graveyard. But if the interference wasn't because of her, then who could it be?

A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. "Dad? If one of the girls who was involved in bullying me was a villain or a Ward and the PRT knew about it, would that be enough to sidetrack the investigation?"

"Yeah, kiddo. It probably would be. I really hate the idea that a Ward would be involved. A villain, I could almost understand, but not someone who's supposed to be a hero."

In a sober tone, Taylor said, "I don't care if the person was a hero or a villain. The PRT had no right to do what they did. So much for justice."

Danny slid an arm around her waist. "Whoah there, kiddo. I don't want you thinking so badly about the law. Rule of law is what makes a civilization function. Only by following the laws of the land can we all live together and accomplish the things we need to do to live free."

She snapped, "Tell that to Emma and Sophia." Taking a deep breath, she let it back out, forcing her emotional turmoil to subside. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to snap at you. None of this is your fault."

Giving her waist a quick hug, Danny said, "It's okay, kiddo. I understand. You're not saying anything that I wasn't thinking when I first heard the news. Let's forget about all of this crap and go eat what you made. It smells great and I'm suddenly starving."

Taylor smiled and nodded. Inside, though, she was still mulling over what had happened with her bullies and the results. If true justice could be circumvented by those in power, then maybe things needed to change. She just needed to work harder, to better hone her abilities, so that she could help make a difference. In her mind's eye, Saturday's errands loomed ever higher in importance for her future as a hero.

~~~~ATotD~~~~


	4. Chapter Four: Divine Justice

**Chapter Four: Divine Justice**

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Before Taylor headed off to the library, she went on her usual early morning run. Just as it had every day since her transformation, the run had been pretty much effortless. At some point she was going to have to figure out a way to see just how fast she could actually run, because she had a pretty good idea that it was a lot faster than she was currently going.

After her shower, Taylor decided to work with her staff a bit. Her dad was already off to work, although he was only going to put in a half day, so she had the house to herself until around two. Still, swinging around a six foot plus staff indoors wasn't a good idea even if she was pretty sure she wouldn't actually hit anything. Instead, she decided to head out to the back yard. It was fenced in and none of their neighbors had a view inside as their house was one of the few two story homes on the block.

Heading out, Taylor stepped through the snow and headed toward the back of the yard. It had snowed two days ago and about a foot or so had fallen. No one other than her had been out here since then and the path she took was over virgin snow.

It was interesting how differently she walked over snow versus before. For one thing, she didn't seem to sink in nearly as deeply as she once had, even though she knew she wasn't actually any lighter. She'd checked with the scale. For another, her balance was so good that she almost glided across the surface the snow rather than walking. Even the cold around her was surprisingly refreshing.

Taylor sat under the big tree at the back on ground that was almost clear of snow, allowing her senses to push outward from her. She grimaced at the sounds of sex that were emanating from a couple of houses, but the remainder were fairly boring, mostly filled with the sounds of early morning cartoons playing on televisions and sleep. Near her, Marco was awake and moving around, probably busy with the large handful of nuts in a bowl she'd left him in the tree a couple of days ago.

Pulling back her awareness to just her and what she carried, Taylor tried to discern anything she could about the staff in her hands. The wood, if that was what it actually was, was smooth and almost warm to the touch. It felt really pleasant under her fingertips, and Taylor realized that she couldn't really feel any kind of grain to the material. Even the smoothest wood in the house that had been liberally coated with stain and varnish had a discernible texture to it now, the grain of the wood as obvious to her touch as it was to others' sight.

But Umrahnuha did not. He was far slicker and smoother than glass, yet still felt utterly secure in her grip. It was almost as if he felt tacky. Huh.

The lower section of the staff, which appeared to be some kind of silvery metal, was equally as smooth as the staff's shaft. The metal was as cool to the touch as Taylor remembered, and just as disturbing. She couldn't quite put a finger on exactly what she felt, but that weird sense of duality was still present. It was as if there was another consciousness just beyond her reach, whether another facet of her own or Umrahnuha's, she had no idea.

Taylor released her hold on the metal with a feeling of relief and began to study the staff's other end. The creature that decorated the top of the staff was fantastical, whether a demon or some kind of monster, she had no idea. Examining it as closely as possible, Taylor saw details that had escaped her notice before.

The creature's skin was composed of thousands of tiny scales, ranging in size to no wider than a human hair, to just under a millimeter in width. The detail was fantastic, as was the artistry. Taylor thought that while she might be able to recreate the effect with a steady enough hand, if for no other reason than she could actually see it clearly. She doubted anyone else could without the aid of magnification of some kind.

She studied the beast further. Its face was long and narrow, ending in a snout rather than an ordinary jaw. The snout flattened out over its length, with wide set nostrils near the end at the top. It looked almost crocodilean in a way. The ears were mere holes in the head, set midway back along its head. The eyes...

The eyes were very strange, and not just because of the crystal that made them up. Set wide in the creature's face, they would give a very wide range of vision of it were alive. Most disturbing, there was a sense of awareness emanating from them.

Tentatively poking one of them, Taylor didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when there was no reaction. Not that she'd expected the thing to suddenly blink, but she wouldn't have been shocked to get another burst of emotion from it, similar to those she'd received that first day.

Instead, there was nothing except, perhaps, a sense of waiting.

Taylor's gaze traveled from the creature to what it held in its mouth. The crystal was just as it had first appeared, seemingly completely transparent, but somehow becoming occluded the closer she got the stone's center. Waving her fingers behind it, she caught her breath because she could see them as though viewing them through oddly thick glass.

Yet nothing else was visible through the crystal. Taylor even tried to look at a branch from the tree through the crystal, but its image simply faded once it passed beyond just the edge of the material.

Shaking her head at the staff, Taylor said in an admonishing tone, "You are a lot of trouble."

"Taylor, is that you?"

She froze, suddenly aware that someone was out in the backyard next door. Taylor had been concentrating so intently on the staff in her hands that she hadn't even heard the back door open. So much for heightened senses, she thought in chagrin. Realizing that she needed to say something, she blurted out, "Yes, Mr Khaled, It's me."

Mr Khaled spoke again, his voice sounding just the slightest bit rheumy to Taylor's sensitive ears, "Can you come around to the gate? I want to ask you something."

"Sure thing."

Getting to her feet, Taylor briefly considered dropping her staff, but decided to test whether or not it was only her dad who couldn't see it. If Mr Khaled commented on it, she'd tell him it was just something she'd made for an SCA group.

She opened the gate that led to the side yard where the driveway was, and immediately saw the source of the earlier voice. Tahib Khaled was a short, skinny man inches shorter than herself. He was probably in his eighties based on the sheer number of wrinkles on his face and the whiteness of his hair. Despite that, he was still surprising spry, although he did occasionally need help doing things around his yard, something that her dad usually took care of. In exchange, he often baked for them, ranging from dinner rolls to strange, ethnic breads and desserts that Taylor had never seen in the grocery store.

He was originally from somewhere in the Middle East, although he seldom talked about his home, merely saying it had been lost a long time ago. He'd lived here in the United States long enough that he only had the merest hint of an accent, although Taylor had never been able to figure out what exactly it reminded her of.

Showing no evidence that he saw her staff, he greeted her, "Good morning, Taylor. You are looking lovely today. I hope that this day finds you well."

Taylor grinned, suddenly happy to the see the older man. Mr Khaled was a good neighbor and she'd always liked him growing up. "I'm good, Mr Khaled. How are you?"

For a moment, his face wore a comedic frown, which almost immediately dissolved into a sunny smile. "I'm as good as an old man can be. I was wondering if I might ask a favor of your father."

She nodded. "Sure. What can we do for you?"

"Well... I could use the front sidewalk shoveled if young Daniel wouldn't mind. I'd do it, but it gets a little harder every year."

Taylor offered, "I can do that for you."

Mr Khaled looked surprised, then immediately demurred, "I cannot ask a young lady to do such a thing. Perhaps your father..."

"I can do it, Mr Khaled. Even if I am a girl."

Giving her a speculative glance, he smiled and said, "Well then, I suppose that I might just have to make your favorite if you were to do such a thing for me."

Taylor's mouth watered as she asked, "Really? Baklava?"

"Of course. It is easy to make if you know how. And I have all of the ingredients. I'll bring some over tonight."

"Deal."

Taylor stuck out her hand and shook Mr Khaled's. Then she ran back into her back yard and then into the house, leaning Umrahnuha against the wall and grabbing a snow shovel from the mud room. A moment later, she was busy shoveling snow.

It was a lot easier than it had been when she was younger. Taylor used to help her dad shovel their walk, although that had more meant her tossing the occasional shovelful of snow, while mostly playing in it. That had been yet another thing that had changed with her mother's death.

It didn't take more than an half an hour to shovel Mr Khaled's front walk. Taylor was careful not to shovel too fast or show too much strength. Instead she worked steadily until she was done. Afterward, she headed toward her neighbor's back door and shoveled the area there, as well as making a path both to the garage where his car was parked and over to their own back door.

Briefly, she considered doing the same thing for her own house, but decided to wait and see if her dad wanted to do it together. It would be yet another way to reconnect with him, something that she wouldn't mind a bit.

Taylor briefly considered taking another shower, but deciding that since she really hadn't broken a sweat, there was no point. She did head indoors to change clothes before heading off to the library as what she was wearing was a little damp.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The library turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Taylor decided to sit down at one of the computers they provided and do some costume and cape research before looking for books. She picked one whose screen was facing a wall so that no one could see the things she was looking at. It was unlikely that anyone would really notice or even care that she was looking at cape stuff, but better to be safe than sorry.

There was a bit of awkwardness as Taylor found she was reading almost as fast as she could scroll down the page using the mouse. So taking notes was a bit of a pain, even though she quickly found she could write almost as fast as she could read.

Then she shifted the mouse over to her left hand and used the fingers there to scroll while she wrote with her right hand. Taylor found herself literally grinning as she was able to take notes as fast as she was reading, her finger constantly moving the scroll wheel in one smooth motion.

At first, Taylor took notes on almost everything she read, but once she figured out that she was remembering pretty much everything that she read, stopped. From that point on, she started to only write down special comments on various looks for costumes, as well as how it might be achieved with the resources she had at hand.

It didn't take Taylor long to figure out that she wanted nothing to do with a skin tight costume as she stared at an image of Laserdream of New Wave, caught when she was doing some kind of event at the mall. Even if she didn't have skinny arms and legs accompanied by a less than skinny midsection, she didn't think she'd be comfortable going out and engaging in combat with her entire shape outlined by skin tight fabric. No, that was pretty much completely out.

What she did like were the more loose and flowing costumes that some heroes wore, almost robe-like in how they looked. At the same time, she wondered how would you armor such a costume?

Then like a light bulb being turned on in her head, Taylor knew exactly how she could accomplish both. What she needed was a padded undersuit with armored inserts covered by a looser over robe. Maybe a cowl as well, she decided, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. With some kind of simple domino mask that she could attach to her cowl to keep it from sliding down when she was moving fast. That would also keep her hair covered, making it harder to identify her.

Steel-toed boots, weighted gloves, and some kind of belt to hold things would complete her costume, Taylor decided. After all, she was going to mostly be a hand to hand combatant, her lightning bolt simply too powerful to use on all but a handful of opponents.

She would also need a weapon, although she was wondering if maybe she should just use her staff. Umrahnuha seemed like it might work, being just over six feet long, but she knew literally nothing about fighting with a staff. Of course, the same went for any other weapon she might pick up. Maybe she could find a book on staff fighting that would help get her started.

Another advantage of using Umrahnuha was that it was now confirmed that no one other than Taylor herself could see the staff. Mr Khaled had proved that. So she would be using a weapon no one else could see or react to. Pretty sweet.

Of course, she was no closer to figuring out what part it had played in her transformation, but it was far too much of a stretch to just be a coincidence that it appeared just as she changed. Taylor wasn't sure if that was a point in its favor or not.

Taylor logged out of the library computer. It was now time to find some books on various combat techniques she might use. It didn't take long to find a variety of books on the different martial arts disciplines ranging from Jujitsu to Karate to Judo. Taylor made sure that each book she picked up had solid descriptions of the moves contained within as well as good drawings or photos. In the end, she added more books on Aikido and something called Krav Maga.

Then she went looking for a book on staff fighting. She found two different ones that seemed good, but decided on the one with the better drawings of the various techniques.

Taylor almost called it a day, but decided to at least glance through a section of books showing other activities she might find useful. In the end, she picked up a book on something called parkour, which seemed to be about moving through an urban landscape, as well as another couple on weight training and Tai Chi.

She used her backpack to haul her stash home, and headed up to her room to read them. It took surprisingly little time to read all six books, so Taylor went ahead and read them again. Then she went and put them back into her backpack to go find a place that she could try to practice the moves she'd read about.

Taylor already had a place in mind before she set off at a medium jog, her staff held in place across her back using her backpack's straps. About fifteen blocks north of her house was one of those commercial buildings that were meant to hold anywhere from five to ten businesses, depending upon the square footage each took up. What was commonly called a strip mall. Steel framed with stucco outsides, the building had the advantage of its entire glass front having been boarded up with plywood, likely to keep vagrants out. So she wouldn't be seen practicing her skills.

Of course that meant it was possible it would keep her out, but Taylor thought she had a way around it.

Walking to the back of the building, she spotted the ladder leading up to the roof. It didn't start until almost ten feet off the ground, again as a security measure, but she figured she could jump that high. After a quick look and listen around, Taylor jumped up and grabbed the ladder's bottom rung. She quickly pulled herself up and headed up ladder, then eased over the top edge onto the roof. She quietly moved around to the far side and found what she'd been looking for, a rooftop access hatch leading inside.

It was way too inconvenient an entrance to interest a vagrant, but it suited her just fine. Unfortunately, it was locked with a small padlock. Deciding that she could use a test of her strength, Taylor grabbed the padlock in one hand while bracing the other on the hatch. Then she pulled as hard as she could.

The padlock held for a moment, then the hinge it was attached to abruptly gave way. Putting it back in place a moment, Taylor decided that was even better as she could arrange it to appear to still be locked to anyone just glancing at it.

Opening the hatch, Taylor was greeted by the musty odors inside. She already knew she was going to be smuggling a broom and dustpan in here at some point, but until then, she'd have to live with it. Looking down, she immediately noticed the steel frame beneath her, then the twelve foot drop to the floor from there.

She wasn't worried about the drop onto the concrete as that wasn't nearly far enough to injure her, but she wasn't sure that she could jump that high up in order to leave afterward. Sticking her head farther in, Taylor craned it around to look at the wall that was just a couple of foot away from the hatch. There were metal cross braces leading up to the roof, spaced about four feet apart, which was perfect. She should easily be able to climb those then shift onto the steel frame.

Lowering herself, pack, staff, and all through the hatch, Taylor kept half an eye out for spiders and bugs. Fortunately, she didn't spot anything, not too big of a surprise since it was probably in the low thirties outside at that moment and not much warmer inside. She knelt onto the steel frame, taking another look at the cross braces to make sure they really were climbable. They were.

She then lightly jumped off the frame, her feet hitting the concrete floor with less sound than a cat's. Interesting. Taylor had tried to land quietly, but she'd had few expectations other than she didn't make enough noise to wake the dead. Maybe landing so softly was some function of her sense of balance. Regardless, she was down now.

Looking around, Taylor was surprised to find that instead of a series of rooms, the interior of the building was a single long room with nothing dividing it. It was immediately apparent what the situation was.

The strip mall had never been built out past the exterior as no one had ever leased any of the building's spaces for their businesses. Because of this, they'd never spent any money on the interior. So the building was one huge empty space about eighty feet deep and nearly five hundred long. It was the perfect spot for the training Taylor had planned as she would not need to worry about being seen, while having more than enough room to practice nearly any move.

It was now time to try some of the things that she had read about. Taylor leaned Umrahnuha against the wall and set her backpack upon the concrete floor, but didn't open it. She could easily recall the words and diagrams describing the movements from each book and didn't need that knowledge refreshed.

Taylor started at the beginning of the first book about karate. She assumed the stance that the book recommended, then adjusted it slightly so that she was perfectly balanced, something that she seemed to possess a fundamental understanding of. Then she threw herself into a series of falls. After all, falling without injury was a fundamental basic of each of these fields of combat.

The key to falling was to allow the momentum of the fall to be bled off using angular motion, that is, spinning. It was so evident to Taylor now that she wondered how she hadn't already known this before. It also became apparent to her that she could use similar moves to reduce the force of blows struck against her, as their power would be reduced by her moving or spinning away from them.

From there, Taylor shifted to fast runs followed by equally fast falls. Then she climbed up onto the highest cross brace on the inside of the building she could, and threw herself off of it. The result surprised her enough that she did it again. Then once more.

What was such a surprise was that she knew exactly how she was oriented in space and how to land. She could have landed on her feet every single time, but had chosen not to. Instead, she'd hit the ground on her shoulder and side, all the while moving in such as way as to bleed off the energy of the impact. Doing a back flip was just as easy, her orientation again evident. It was the same when Taylor did a series of side flips, similar to the ones she'd done in her basement.

Coming to a halt after the last one, she took stock of what she'd learned. Falling wasn't an issue, her understanding and control of her body's orientation more than human. It was pretty interesting to someone who had never been in the least a sports person that she could probably do real gymnastics now, like the girls on TV.

Taylor decided to move on to striking as she didn't have unlimited time to work on all of this and she wanted to do at least a little bit of everything. Initially she focused upon the simplest strikes designed to hit something several inches past the object of the blow. The increase in the intended distance of the blow allowed all of the force to be transmitted to the intended target. Again, it made sense to her once she'd attempted the motions a few dozen times. It was something she could do, although she couldn't really gauge the force of her blows until she had something to hit. That mean bringing boards down here at some point in the future.

Over the next four hours, Taylor attempted every single movement from the various martial arts books she'd read several times. Some made more sense than others, especially those that seemed designed to redirect the momentum and movement of others. Some made a bit less, such as some of the kicks which left you far too exposed. Those felt more showy than effective, although the force behind some of them was frightening. Plus she was probably fast enough to get away with them against at least a normal person.

In the end, it was a combination of Krav Maga and Aikido that seemed the most attractive to Taylor. She liked the simple, but incredibly effective brutality of the former, while the joint locks and submission holds of the latter also appealed to her. It didn't hurt that most people believed Aikido to be a gentle form of martial arts, which was only true if you didn't take the movements just a little further to their logical conclusion and destroy the joint you had locked in place.

But Aikido could also be used for just submission without unduly injuring the person you were using it on, not something to be taken for granted as she didn't know what circumstances might arise in the future requiring her to do exactly that.

Of course, this didn't prevent her from also incorporating some of the strikes, kicks, and other blows from the remaining disciplines. After all, many of them were just too useful not to add to her repertoire. When she was done, Taylor felt like she had at least a working knowledge of fighting techniques to draw upon. She was also aware that she could benefit quite a bit from having someone actually demonstrate to her some of the moves she'd learned, as a few of them didn't feel quite right. It made her think of the old axiom, you can't learn everything from a book.

Staring off into the distance, Taylor considered everything that she had just practiced, both what had worked and what hadn't. She didn't try to fool herself into thinking that she would be able to effectively use this to defeat a stronger or more skilled opponent. But most of the things she'd internalized would work against an ordinary person, likely even several.

Taylor stretched a bit once she was done with the martial arts, although she didn't really feel particularly stiff. If anything, her flexibility was phenomenal, something she confirmed by dropping into splits, her legs straight out to the side from her body. That definitely wasn't something she would have been able to do before all of this happened.

Easily rising to her feet without the use of her hands, Taylor began to do some of the movements that she'd seen in the book about Tai Chi. The movements, controlled and graceful, appealed to her quite a bit. She could see why it had grown increasingly popular as a way of maintaining fitness. The movements themselves seemed very compatible to her own innate sense of balance.

But enough was enough. It was time to practice some of the staff fighting she'd studied.

Taking Umrahnuha into her hands, Taylor assumed a stance not that dissimilar to her martial arts one. Then she tentatively began practicing the movements she'd read about.

Half an hour later found her moving with far more assurance than what she'd started with. Umrahnuha now whistled through the air with each movement of her wrists and arms, moving so fast that the ends were a blur.

Arm and leg strikes were done just... so. Another move would knock the air from someone. This one would trip them. Another smashed a joint beyond its ability to support someone's weight. It wasn't long before her respect for staff fight grew exponentially as she learned just how devastating it could be even against an armed opponent.

She could definitely do a lot of damage with Umrahnuha. The blows she swung should easily break bones or worse. As it was, she'd likely have to avoid hitting anyone in the head as it might easily kill them.

Taylor's only concern was just how durable Umrahnuha was. While it didn't appear easily scratched, would she break it the first time she used it to block a blow from a baseball bat or a tire iron? Or hit someone more durable than an ordinary human with it? She listened intently, but if Umrahnuha knew the answers to her questions, he wasn't saying.

Briefly wondering if she'd imagined the staff talking to her on that morning nearly three weeks ago when she'd found it, Taylor walked over to the south end of the building. There was one test she could do to see just how tough the staff was. Taking a deep breath, she raised the staff, crystal end down, and slammed it as hard and fast as she could into the concrete below it.

The force of the blow rang through the building as the concrete shattered, chips flying off in all directions. Flipping the staff in her hands over, Taylor studied the demon head and crystal. Both appeared completely unmarred by the collision with the concrete floor. There was also a sense of smug satisfaction from the staff in her hands, the first emotion she'd sensed from it since that day weeks ago.

Her eyes moving from the staff to the floor at her feet, Taylor started. Had she actually hit it hard enough to shatter the concrete in a circle nearly ten feet across? There were even more cracks radiating several feet further than that. Carefully considering the situation, she concluded that the answer was no. It was far more likely that there was some fundamental flaw in the concrete slab that had been poured when the building was being constructed. After all, she simply wasn't that strong.

Still, the lack of damage to Umrahnuha meant she could hit hard enough to take down at least lower level brutes without worrying that her weapon was going to break.

It was time to move on and try the last couple of skills she was interested in. But after looking around, she didn't see any place that she could really practice parkour, as the room was far too level for the movements and strategies employed therein. No, Taylor decided, she would need to find another place to practice that skill. And weightlifting would require apparatus that she simply didn't have. Time to pack up and look a little further afield.

She made her way out of the building, easily making the wall climb and descent afterward, then headed off to find a better location for parkour. She headed in the general direction of Trainyard and soon her surroundings grew a little more varied and suitable for the movements. At the same time, the area wasn't the best, a fact that was brought home to Taylor when her sensitive hearing registered a series of scuffling sounds paralleling her own from less than a block over.

Coming to an intersection, Taylor decided to avoid a confrontation and headed directly away from the sounds, only to hear them begin again behind her. Glancing back, she saw four men, or boys rather, following her, none of whom could be over the age of seventeen. She picked up the pace, but so did her followers. That's when she ducked into an alley.

It didn't appear that she would be able to avoid a confrontation after all, so Taylor decided to just get it over with. She pulled up her hoodie, then tightened the string enough that it hid most of her face.

As she waited, Taylor was surprised at just how calm she felt. In her hands, Umrahnuha seemed to almost hum with anticipation, making her wonder if violence was somehow the key to communicating with it. But she didn't have long to think about it as sounds of running feet coming closer filled her ears.

The first person to turn the corner was a boy about her own age, and perhaps three inches taller. She dealt with him by tripping him with her staff, then kicking him in the side of the head as he fell, pulling the blow somewhat to make sure she didn't seriously hurt him. By the time she'd finished dealing with him, two of the other boys were upon her.

Having had some warning of a scuffle going on, they were at least somewhat more prepared than the first boy. Both of these boys were taller and more husky than the first boy, and maybe a year or two older than Taylor. They stared at the boy on the ground, then at her, and began to spread out to circle her.

The one with the dark hair and pale skin said, "You really shouldn't have done that, bitch."

So they knew she was a girl, Taylor thought. And from their race, and a hand drawn tat visible on the arm of the one moving behind her, members of Empire 88. Or at least wannabe's.

That one, his hair a light brown and his eyes blue, said, "Yeah, we didn't mean you any harm. Just making sure that you were the right sort. Now we're going to have to give you a beat down regardless. Don't worry, though, we're not rapists."

Was that really supposed to reassure her, Taylor wondered? The boys might not be rapists, but they were going to hurt her. She tensed, preparing to move, when the last boy came thundering in.

As the gaze of the dark-haired boy in front of her involuntarily moved sideways, Taylor moved, driving her staff into his chest with vicious force. The boy went backwards with a loud "Whoof!" while she spun to engage her last two opponents.

Her newest opponent didn't waste a second and immediately threw himself forward to grapple with her. Taylor immediately understood why he'd been the last to arrive as the boy had to be at least six four and two hundred and fifty pounds, all of it muscle. He tried to grab her around the neck and seemed puzzled when his hands hit something invisible halfway there, she having blocked him with her staff.

In the meantime, Taylor did a front kick from her reading, striking him directly in the solar plexus. Enormously muscled or not, it wasn't something the boy could just take without being affected and he folded. Then Taylor tapped him almost gently on the side of the head with her staff and he was out.

The last boy stared at her in fear and said, "Fucking cape." So he'd noticed that she knocked out his friends without really touching them.

He pulled something out of his pocket which turned out to be a switchblade knife. A push of the button and he was brandishing a four inch blade at her. Taylor eyed it warily, then moved forward. But at her first step forward, the boy turned around and ran, the knife still clutched in his hand.

Huh. She hadn't expected that to happen. Taylor guessed that he'd decided discretion was the better part of valor. Turning a triumphant eye upon her vanquished foes, she felt her heart sink.

The boy who she'd hit with her staff directly in the chest was pale and cold, his breathing a wheezing sound in the stillness. Wondering if he was about to die, Taylor quickly knelt at his side. She unzipped his jacket, then grabbed his shirt and yanked it open, sending buttons flying.

She needed to heal him. She placed her hand on the boy's chest, feeling the surprising softness of his skin, with its firmer, underlying musculature. Beneath that, though, something felt broken. Focusing on that feeling inside of her head, Taylor willed the boy to be healed. And he was, broken bones and damaged tissues becoming whole instantly.

The boy's eyes shot open and he breathed in so deeply it was almost comical. His color now mostly normal, he scrambled back from her on his heels and elbows until his back hit the wall behind him. Glancing down at the feeling of cold air on his skin, he clutch his shirt together with one trembling hand.

He groaned, "What the fuck did you do to me?"

The boy's voice was full of fear and panic, so Taylor waited a moment to answer. Finally, in a calm voice, she said, "I healed you. I was afraid that you were going to die."

"You healed me?" It wasn't quite a question, but neither was it a statement. It had uncertainty and a fair amount of doubt, but his eyes told a different story. His eyes said that he knew exactly what she'd done and it scared the living shit out of him.

"Yes."

The boy shivered at her one word answer. Then he glanced down at his chest, then back up at her. "What was wrong with me?"

"I hit you too hard."

"Jesus Christ."

Taylor got to her feet and checked the other boys. They both appeared to be all right, if currently unconscious. Pulling her hoodie just a little tighter, she started to leave.

"You're just going to leave? What about Gary and Stu?"

"They'll live."

"Bitch."

Taylor heard the muttered word and turned around one final time. She poured passion and conviction into her voice as she spoke to him. "You followed someone with the intent to hurt them if they didn't meet your standard of racial purity. Whatever fate you receive was justified. Being a Nazi is a bad thing. Hating others because of the color of their skin is a bad thing. You can do better than that. _Be_ a better person."

Then she headed off at a fast run, turning it into a sprint once she turned the corner. Taylor thought she was hitting highway speeds before she slowed down once she started hearing cars again. Then she headed home, deciding to work on her remaining skills another day.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Jeremy sat there in the filth of the alley, his brain almost afire from what had happened. He didn't have any idea what happened to Terry, but figured he must have run off, since his body wasn't one of those laying around him. Staggering to his feet, he walked over to check on Gary and Stu.

Both seemed fine, but were completely out of it, making him wonder just who the hell they'd run into. He was damn sure it wasn't one of the Protectorate or Wards as he had a pretty good idea of what they looked like in costume. And that wasn't a skinny girl wearing warm up bottoms and a tightly drawn hoodie.

Jeremy hadn't seen the girl's features, but he had caught a glimpse of her eyes. Just thinking about them made his breath catch. What the fuck was wrong with him, he wondered? Had the girl done something to him while healing him? Altered his thinking somehow?

Because right at that moment, Jeremy wasn't thinking about the importance of the message from Empire 88. Rather, he was thinking about someone who had apparently taken him down so hard it had nearly killed him, then turned around and healed him.

She'd likely done the first because she hadn't like being chased, but why had she bothered with the second? Was he even worth wasting something her healing on? Because Jeremy could tell that he was completely healed. His most recent injuries were gone, as was every bruise from a clash with teenage members of the ABB a week ago completely gone, as well as older, more persistent aches and pains he'd gotten at home.

Jeremy almost took off, but decided that he didn't want the rep of a deserter. No, he'd stay around and get his buddies back to their homes. Then he'd ease his way back out of the group. Maybe. If they let him.

No, he decided abruptly, he'd do it whatever it took. Remember the dark brown eyes that almost seemed to glitter with some kind of inner light, he needed to do it. He owed her that.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

"So what have you been up to today?"

His daughter glanced over Danny as she slowly chewed her hamburger. Swallowing, she announced, "Nothing much. Just went to the public library earlier, then studied this afternoon. Oh, and I shoveled Mr Khaled's walk for him."

Surprised, Danny looked over at her. "Really? I usually do that."

"Yeah, but you were working, so I took care of it. We need to shovel ours, though."

Teasing gently, Danny said, "I'm surprised that you didn't go ahead and shovel it while you were at it."

The comment didn't get the smile he expected. Instead, Taylor looked serious as she said, "I thought that you and I might do it tomorrow. Together. If that's okay?"

Feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, Danny nodded. His voice was surprisingly unaffected as he said, "That would be fine. With both of us working on it, we can knock it out in no time."

Taylor looked surprised. "Both of us? I figured that you would do the shoveling and I'd make the hot chocolate."

That had always been Annette's job. Danny felt just the slightest burning sensation in his eyes as he considered his daughter's words. Voice not quite as even, he said, "Sure thing, kiddo. You make the hot chocolate, and I'll shovel the snow."

Taylor ordered, "And help me make a snowman afterward."

Agreeably, Danny said, "And help you make a snowman afterward."

The two of them shared a look that communicated much more than the words they'd exchanged had. A few minutes later, Danny heard a knock on the back door. Sending an inquiring look Taylor's way, he waited to see if she had any idea who it might be.

"It's Mr Khaled with baklava. Sweet."

Taylor scrambled to her feet and headed over to answer the door, coming back a moment later with their neighbor in tow.

Danny rose and shook the older man's hand. "It's good to see you, Tahib."

Tahib Khaled, his other hand holding a paper bag, waved genially. "Daniel. How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine. What's this I hear about baklava?"

Tahib sent a quizzical glance his daughter's way, then shrugged. "Taylor, here, did me a huge favor by shoveling not only my front walks, but around my back door and a path over to yours. She even salted them afterward. So I made her favorite."

Danny sent the other man a knowing look. "For that, you should have gotten her to shovel your entire yard."

The two of them shared a grin as Taylor's love for the sweet, sticky dessert was well known. Tahib smiled. "I couldn't do that. I did put a few fresh baked hamburger buns in there though, when I smelled something good cooking over here."

Taylor quickly asked, "Would you like a hamburger, Mr Khaled? We have extras."

"Well, now, I suppose I could be persuaded to sit down and eat a bite," Tahib said, handing the bag to Taylor before taking seat across from Danny.

Danny watched, bemused, as his daughter scrambled off at near light speed once again to fetch Tahib a plate. Apparently all that running was paying off with an improved energy level. She returned a moment later with not just that, but utensils and a glass of ice tea. She quickly set another place in front of their guest and returned to her own seat.

The three of them began to eat again, making small talk. Danny couldn't remember the last time he'd had Tahib over for dinner. Again, it had to be when his wife was alive. It turned out that it was nice to talk about adult things with another person, although the occasional interjections by his daughter were surprisingly insightful.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

"Okay, Dad, now we just need some coal for eyes." Taylor sent a questioning look her dad's way as she spoke, only to end up being disappointed by him shaking his head.

"Sorry, Taylor, but we're fresh out of coal. Maybe use a couple of rocks?"

Taylor grumbled, "Fine. But we're not winning any awards with a snowman with rocks for eyes."

Still, she couldn't help the grin that pulled the corners of her mouth up as she watched her dad put a couple of rocks in place. Then that grin turned to a frown as Taylor realized just how tired her dad looked.

Thinking about it, it had taken him longer than usual to shovel their walks. Certainly a lot longer than it had taken her the day before to do the same for Mr Khaled's. Wondering if her dad was feeling okay, Taylor decided to just be direct.

"Dad, you okay? You look a little tired."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Danny smiled at her reassuringly. "Maybe just a little. But I'm fine. Really."

He wasn't nearly as convincing as he probably wanted to be. Taylor chewed her lip. She could heal him, but there was no way he wouldn't feel that. Unless, that is, she somehow distracted him. Then, she had an idea. An evil genius idea.

It took only a moment to set up. Taylor fetched her dad a fresh cup of hot chocolate. Then while he was busy blowing on it to cool it enough to take a drink, she moved in behind him. Taking the snow shovel, she carefully slid it into the snow until it was completely full.

Then as quickly as she possibly could, she pulled back the collar of her dad's coat and dumped the entire load of snow down the back of his shirt and coat. Even as he began howling and dancing around, trying to pull out his shirt from his pants and dump the icy cold substance back onto the ground, Taylor tackled him to the ground, sending them both rolling through the snow.

During the resulting melee of arms and legs twisting together, she pressed her both of her hands to Danny's neck and poured healing into him. Something seriously wrong faded under the deluge of healing, making her heart beat that much faster. Determined not to give way to her feelings of relief by crying, she continued to wrestle with her dad, the prickly feeling in her eyes fading after a moment.

A few minutes later found Danny pushing her face into the snow repeatedly while rubbing more snow onto the back of her neck. He demanded, "Now repeat after me. I will not pour snow down my dad's shirt."

Spitting out snow that wasn't nearly as fresh as it had been when first laid down, Taylor muttered, "I will pour snow down my dad's shirt."

"Oh, so _that's_ how it's going to be?"

Danny preceded to start stuffing snow down the back of Taylor's shirt, making her shout in return. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Help! Help! It's too cold!"

At that, the two of the collapsed into the snow, laughing helplessly. Finally, Danny got up with surprising ease and reached down a hand and pulled up Taylor up in turn. He grumbled, "You don't show the proper respect for your old man." Unfortunately, the grin he wore spoiled his little speech.

Taylor's own grin was cheeky. "Well, you can't say that you're feeling tired now, can you?"

Looking surprised, Danny said, "I... huh. Actually, I feel pretty damn good right now. Race you inside! First one in is master of the castle!"

Taking off before the words were completely out of his mouth, Danny beat Taylor inside by a couple of seconds. Something which he didn't let her forget about the rest of the day. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to mind, even when he declared that as the winner, it was her turn to cook dinner. Lasagna it was, she thought, sending him a fond look.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Danny felt incredibly tired as he yawned for yet the fourth time. Shaking his head to try to force himself awake, he finally gave up. Getting to his feet, he said, "Taylor, I'm off to bed."

Sitting there wrapped in a warm blanket, she helpfully pointed out, "It's only eight o'clock."

"I know, but I think the shoveling today, or maybe it was building the snowman, pretty much tuckered me out. I'll see you at breakfast. Be careful on your run tomorrow and don't stay up too late."

"I won't. Good night."

Leaning down, Danny gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head as he murmured, "Night, kiddo."

His legs felt surprisingly heavy as he made his way up the stairs. Still, he completed his usual nightly routine, brushing his teeth and washing his face. However, as soon as his head hit his pillow, Danny was out like a light.

He awoke the next morning feeling pretty good. Aches and pains that he usually felt on a cold morning like this one were absent. He had to take a really quick shower as he was running late. Somehow, he'd managed to sleep ten hours last night.

Still, Danny had breakfast waiting for his daughter when she came bounding down the stairs, face glowing from a combination of her morning run and the shower afterward. "Pancakes? Excellent!"

"Yep. Pancakes with Mrs Butterworths."

They sat down in companionable silence for a few minutes. Danny ate half a dozen of the big pancakes himself, surprised at how hungry he was. Although when he looked up, Taylor had somehow managed to pretty much match him.

"Dad, where are your glasses?"

"What?" Danny actually reached up and touched the bridge of his nose before he realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. Yet he could still see perfectly. Okay, that wasn't weird. Or frightening.

Realizing that Taylor was still staring at him, Danny hedged, "I'll grab them in a bit. You'd better hurry up or you'll miss the bus."

"Crap!"

Taylor was scrambling to her feet after taking one last gulp of milk while he called after her, "Language!"

His only answer was a laugh left floating in the air. Danny couldn't help the smile on his face as he heard the sheer joy in his daughter's voice.

At work that morning, Danny had an extra step to his walk. He still hadn't figured out the mystery of his glasses. At first, he thought that maybe he'd hit head and done something to his eyes, but a few minutes on the computer surfing the net showed that to be an utter fallacy. However, that same research did indicate that brain tumors and the like could have profound effects, although they were seldom so beneficial, even on the surface.

In the end, Danny made an appointment with his doctor to have a complete check up. Better to be safe than sorry. Because if there was one thing he'd learned was that things like this, things that appeared to benefit you, always came with a cost. He just hoped the price wasn't a reduction in his time upon this earth when he'd only recently began really living again.

Plus there was Taylor to think of. While he had good life insurance from the Dockworkers Union, and Kurt and Lacey had already agreed to take care of her if something ever happened to him, he would hate for her to lose another parent. So he needed to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening.

It was a worried, but determined man who headed off to the doctor that afternoon.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor got up when the bell rang and walked up to Mrs Knott's desk.

"Yes, Taylor? Is there something I can do for you?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for having my back last week. With Madison."

The big woman's face turned flush. Her smile widened a bit and she said, "You're very welcome, Taylor. I'm glad I could help."

"Mrs Knott, did you do something different with your hair? It looks really nice today."

"Well... um... that is, I had a perm put in it this weekend."

So that was why her teacher's hair had a curl to it that it had been missing before. Studying the face of the woman who stood before her, Taylor decided to speak her mind. "You know, you should look at changing your wardrobe a little. You would look good in a blouse and skirt, rather than those shirts and pants you wear."

The woman suddenly looked nervous, and Taylor wondered if maybe she'd developed an interest in one of the other teachers. Her voice was a bit uncertain as she said, "Well, I don't know about all that. I'm pretty happy with how I look."

"There's nothing wrong with fixing up a bit so that you can feel more feminine," Taylor assured her. She gestured back at herself. "I know a little about wanting to be invisible. I'm trying to do better."

Both women considered Taylor's own outfit of more fitted jeans, sneakers, and a long sleeved t-shirt in a soft blue. It was far and away from her usual outfit of baggy jeans and a hoodie. She'd tailored these jeans over the weekend to fit her a lot better than her others and dug the t-shirt out of the back of her closet. Taylor was feeling a bit less self-conscious of her midsection as the effects of three weeks of running and other exercise were starting to have their effects.

It might take months before her pudge was completely gone, but the effort was definitely worth it.

Mrs Knott nodded her head. "I did notice that you're wearing brighter colors the last few days. And you look... thinner."

"I've taken up jogging in the mornings. It's really getting me into shape quickly."

"That's really wonderful, Taylor. I'm so glad things are going well for you. Now, I do have another class to teach and I'm sure you should be getting to your next one."

"You're right. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Taylor."

Taylor headed out of class, but not on to her next one. She'd decided to drop Spanish and give herself an open period to work on other things. With her new learning ability, it didn't make sense to take every class if she didn't need them, plus this was one that she had an extra textbook for, even if it was a bit stained with grape juice. That had been a result of Emma pouring a bottle of it into her open backpack last fall. She could use it to study the language on her own and just take a test for it at the end of the year.

Since she had a free period, Taylor had decided to spend it in the school library. There were a couple of things she wanted to look up and do a little research on. Things that she hadn't been able to get to in Mrs Knott's class. So she headed that way.

She jumped a bit when the late bell rang, but she wasn't late for anything, so she just kept going. She'd gotten increasingly good at parsing the information that her senses were sending her way and was able to filter out most of the junk, although she did learn that Amanda and Violet were planning to overthrow Madison as head bitches of the sophomore class of Winslow High.

Rolling her eyes, Taylor decided that she'd probably never understand the desire to be popular no matter the cost. It likely stemmed from some deep-seated insecurity in the person desiring that status. Or maybe those people were just assholes. In the end, it didn't really matter to her.

Turning the corner to head upstairs, Taylor abruptly paused, her attention drawn by the sounds of crying going on ahead of her. Moving in that direction instead, she soon arrived at the same boy's bathroom as last time. She hesitated just a moment, then pushed the door open.

At the sound of the door opening, the boy's sobs abruptly ceased, although her sensitive hearing still detected the catch in his breathing as he held them in. Taylor called out, "Hello, is anyone in here?"

There was a moment of silence, then a shocked voice called out, "Hey! You're a girl! You are not supposed to be in here! This is the boy's bathroom!"

In a far quieter tone, Taylor agreed, "I know. But I heard you crying and I just wanted to check on you."

"I was not crying! Get out of here!"

She wasn't dissuaded. Taylor couldn't even count the number of times she would have been glad of anyone to talk to during the height of the bullying from Emma and her cronies. Her pain at the betrayal and the relentless emotional attacks had rivaled that she'd felt when her mother died. It had almost broken, only sheer stubbornness keeping her going. It wasn't something she could leave another person alone to deal with.

"Look, why don't you come out there? I'm not going to leave until I see that you're all right."

"Mother fucker!"

The boy slammed the stall door open and stormed out, his tears exchanged for fury. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why won't you leave me alone?"

"Maybe because I know a bit about how hard the people in this school can be on others. Want to talk about it?"

Taylor stared at the face of a boy about her own age, his features clearly Asian in ancestry, although she couldn't have said what country he hailed from for sure. Maybe Korea? She didn't really recognize him, although she thought she might have seen him around.

He was probably three or four inches shorter than her, especially since she was dealing with a recent growth spurt, and probably weighed less, his arms, legs, and torso very thin. He had black hair cut into a simple haircut, not to short, not too long, and his features were pretty ordinary. His only distinguishing feature, really, was the black eye he sported on the left side. That looked recent and painful.

The boy in turn was studying her as intently as Taylor studied him. His dark eyes were intelligent, and frankly assessing as he looked her up and down. Finally, he muttered, "You're that girl who almost got stuck in your locker with all of those tampons."

Not exactly the ice breaker she'd been looking for, but Taylor decided to just take it and run with it. "Key word being almost. Emma and Sophia got expelled for it. What's your name? I'm Taylor."

The boy took a shaky breath. His voice was low as he said, "Seon."

Taylor held out a hand to shake. She kept it up even while Seon ignored it. Finally, though, her expectation wore upon him and he gave it a brief shake before dropping it. "Nice to meet you, Seon. Want to tell me why you in here instead of in class?"

"I don't have regular classes. I'm on advanced path."

Taylor's brows rose at that. It wasn't usual for many advanced placement types to go to school at Winslow as Arcadia was such a better school. Usually, the only ones that stayed and went to Winslow were those that lived nearby and didn't want to have to deal with a bus ride across town twice a day. It wasn't something that she would have chosen, but to each his own, she supposed.

"Still, you're in here rather than the library or somewhere else you can study."

Instead of answering, Seon shuffled over the sink and turned on the tap. He splashed his face, then dried it with a couple of paper towels, before carefully disposing of them in the waste basket. Finally, looking more composed, he turned back towards Taylor.

"Look..."

"Taylor."

"Look, Taylor, I don't want to talk about this. It's none of your business."

Putting as much conviction in her voice as she could, Taylor stepped closer to Seon. "Look, Seon, you're absolutely right. It is none of my business. But if I can help you, I will."

"Why the fuck would you do that? You're a fucking idiot."

Taylor refused to allow herself to get angry. Seon was scared and lashing out. In some ways, she saw parts of herself in him. "Maybe I am. But you're twice the idiot for refusing someone's help when they offer it."

"Jesus Christ, you're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Probably not. I'm pretty stubborn. Or so people tell me."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Seon stared at the crazy white girl who wouldn't leave him alone. He knew who she was, of course, even before she introduced herself. Taylor Hebert.

She'd been the victim of that nasty group of girls led by Emma Barnes, that hot redhead in his year. Not that he would have touched her with a ten foot pole after the shit she pulled that he'd witnessed, but he'd jerked off to thoughts about her more than once. Her and that girl, Sophia, that is. He was a guy after all.

But the girl was too damn mean to actually want to spend time around her. Her entire entourage was. He'd seen them do mean shit to too many people. Not to him, fortunately, but then they probably thought he was a member of the ABB or some shit. Racist bitches.

But if Emma and her toadies bullied a lot of people, they seemed to have a special hard on for Taylor Hebert. They'd picked and picked and picked at the girl until Seon was surprised she still came to school. She'd become a nonentity to the point that she faded into the background and still they picked on her. He'd only heard second hand about the worst stuff, but it had been fairly heinous. Destroying her mom's flute or something had been one of the worse ones, something that you had to know the background of to realize just how bad it was. Supposedly, she was dead or something.

A week ago, on the first day back from Christmas break, all kinds of shit had gone down. Seon hadn't witnessed any of it, but he'd heard rumors that something was going to happen. Something bad.

Somehow, he doubted that Emma Barnes had expected for her and her closest friend to get expelled over it. But they'd been caught red-handed. Trying to push Hebert into her locker right in front of the principal. Talk about bad luck.

And apparently that bad luck was contagious. She was here in front of him because she had heard him crying. Despite the truth in those words, he'd never be able to admit something like that and live it down.

However, there was something about the annoying girl that made Seon wonder if maybe he could trust her. He wasn't even sure why he felt that way. It wasn't remotely logical, more of a feeling rather. Taking a deep breath, he told a half truth.

"I'm having problems in school."

The look she sent him was shrewd. "Not with your actual schoolwork though, right?"

Fuck! Seon sent Taylor a threatening look, but all it accomplished was for her to roll her eyes in exasperation. He had no idea how the girl in front of him had ever been bullied for a year and a half.

"No."

There was a coaxing note in the girl's voice as she asked, "Why don't you tell me about it and maybe I can help you?"

Help him? Against the ABB? Seon saw no way a white girl like Taylor Hebert could help him. But he was so tired of holding everything in. It felt like it was slowly killing him. One of the reasons he'd been in here in the the first place.

"Fuck. Fine. Look, Nam Park and Zhang Wei are the two main ABB recruiters here at Winslow. They want me to join. They're not taking no for an answer."

There was a momentary flash of fury on the girl's face that almost had Seon taking a step back. It disappeared almost as fast as it had appeared, but there was still a note of iron in her voice as she said, "I thought that the ABB didn't force anyone to join."

Seon shrugged. "It used to be that way. I don't know why it's changed, but it is. Nam keeps upping the ante. Last week he hit me. Now, he's threatening my family. Says that unless I want my sister ending up as a whore, I'd better man up. She's only thirteen. Goddamn it!"

He slammed his fist against the stall door, welcoming the pain of skinned knuckles as the door bounced back into the stall making a loud noise. Holding his injured hand in his other, Seon slid down to sit on the floor, for once not caring about the germs that were probably all over it.

He whispered, "I don't know what to do."

Taylor sat down next to him. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder firmly, almost making him wince at the strength in her fingers. Meeting his gaze squarely, she said, "I'm not sure either. But I'll help you. We'll figure it out."

After sitting for a few minutes, she suggested, ″Why not go to the PRT and ask for their help?″

Stupid girl, Seon thought. Like that would work. Then he sighed at the patient expression on Taylor's face, and explained, ″The last time someone in the Korean community went to the PRT for help, they were told that all they could do was go and talk to the people that were threatening them. Until there was clear evidence of a crime, that was it. Not that it mattered to the Parks, they were murdered the next day. All four of them.″

Seon watched anger and understanding compete for space upon the girl's face. Then it slowly smoothed out until only determination was left. Squeezing his shoulder one more time, she got to her feet. Then she held out a hand to him.

Slowly, Seon reached out and took Taylor's hand.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor walked home from the bus stop, her head full of thoughts of Seon's quandary. His situation was dire, as he'd been given an ultimatum: join the ABB by the weekend, or they'd be forcibly recruiting his sister for something far worse.

She didn't have a solution for what was happening to the boy, but then again, she didn't understand why it was happening either. Winslow had been a recruiting ground for both the ABB and Empire 88 for years, but neither group had ever really forced anyone else to join. Joining had been strongly encouraged, especially on the part of the ABB, but they'd never really threatened anyone to force them to join. After all, if everyone was a member of the ABB, who would be left to make money off of as they primarily preyed upon Asian families and businesses?

The answer was no one. So Taylor imagined that they had an all encompassing reason for doing what they were doing. It was likely in response to Empire 88 in some way, as the two gangs basically split the city between them, with the Merchants receiving the dregs that no one else wanted.

She didn't doubt for a moment that the two boys would carry out their threat against Seon's little sister. Too much was at stake for them not to. Certainly, his parents believed it, and were putting even more pressure on him to join in order to try to preserve their family as best they could.

Seon had said that if they could afford it, they'd move to another city, one without a gang presence, but currently, they simply didn't have the money, nor could they borrow it. The only solution any of them had been able to come up with was for their son, despite his intelligence and prospects for the future, to become a low level thug.

It was a terrible fate, and it filled her with a terrible anger. Things like this should not happen. Not in America. Not simply because someone else was too strong to be stopped, so they were allowed to circumvent both the law and justice, making victims of everyone around them.

Worse, the PRT would not help protect people like the Li's, needing probably cause and actual crimes to have occurred before they would act. This, when they should have already shut down the ABB, forced them to leave the city and putting those who wouldn't, in prison or in the ground. Taylor suspected that it had more to do with who they'd be opposing, than just the law that kept them from acting.

After all, it was only because of the Parahuman known as Lung that the ABB even existed in Brockton Bay. He'd not only brought them to the city, but he was the sole reason they weren't overwhelmed by the other gangs. Without him, even the Merchants would be able to take down the ABB.

Lung was simply a monster who masqueraded as a man. He was a cape who had fought an Endbringer single-handedly, and had done the same against several Protectorate teams, growing in power and fury throughout the fight until he simply overwhelmed them.

It had been said that the only way to beat Lung was to take him down early, before he managed to ramp up to the point he could _not_ be beaten.

Taylor only saw two successful paths that her attempt to save Seon and his family could go down. She could kill Lung, breaking the ABB and throwing the entire city in disorder. Or, she could give Seon and his family enough money to allow them to leave Brockton Bay. Neither were particularly easy outcomes to accomplish.

Killing Lung, or somehow making sure he went to prison, was something that felt like the more impossible of the two solutions. Not only was he incredibly dangerous in and of himself, but he had Parahuman back up in the form of Oni Lee, a sociopathic killer who could teleport place to place, while leaving copies behind who could engage in suicide attacks.

Oni Lee was probably responsible for nearly as many deaths as Lung was. If he wasn't quite, it was likely a close thing.

Getting enough money to the Li's for them to move out of Brockton Bay was also problematic, if less so than defeating Lung. While Taylor, herself, didn't have any money to give Seon, she might be able to steal it from the gangs. But that would also be supremely dangerous, as the one area where none of the gangs messed around, not even the Merchants, was when it came to their bread and butter.

Any large amounts of cash would be closely guarded by armed gang members, likely with Parahuman support. Even considering it was probably just a little crazy, but Taylor just didn't see another way.

She silently ticked off the various gangs in the city and how dangerous stealing from them might be. Empire 88 was just out. Not only because of just how strong their presence was, the numbers of their regular foot soldiers the greatest of all the gangs, but also because of how many capes they could field. With nearly as many capes as the Protectorate and Wards together, they could afford to have two to three villainous capes guarding any sites with large amounts of cash on hand.

It was the opposite with the ABB and the Merchants, the only other two gangs which were likely to have large amounts of cash somewhere. The ABB only had two capes, and if they were two of the scariest in the city, still, they could only be in two places at once.

The Merchants had three capes, which meant they were still spread thin. Plus, as bad as Skidmark's reputation was on the PHO site, he couldn't be all that bad or he'd never have managed to build up as large of a gang of criminals as he had.

In the end, despite how dangerous Lung was, Taylor was leaning towards robbing the ABB. It felt poetic to do something like this, forcing them to finance the flight of one of their own recruit's families.

Now all she had to do was figure out a costume, go out and find their money, then steal it.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor had had grand plans for her costume, an armored undersuit with flowing robes over it, plus a cowl and everything. She now didn't have time for any of that. So instead, she set out to sew a simple costume out of a pair of old jeans, a pair of thin gloves, a couple of worn hoodies, and an old pair of hiking boots which dated from her last time at summer camp, back when she and Emma were still friends.

It took her several hours, but in the end Taylor had a serviceable costume, if not exactly elegant. She'd tailored the old blue jeans so they fit her body a lot better. The two hoodies had become one, stitched together so that the holes one had was covered by the other. She made some loops on the back for Umrahnuha to pass through so that she could carry him across her back.

Taylor had also made herself a halfway decent mask out of the extra material from the hoodies, stiffening it with some cardboard. It ended up being a bit bigger than the original domino mask she'd planned, but that would just keep her features more hidden. She'd even added little buttons to each side of her mask, which allowed her to securely fasten her hoodie to it so that the material there wouldn't accidentally slide down if she was fighting. Between the hood and her mask, a majority of her head was covered.

The last thing that Taylor had done was to embroider one of the runes from Umrahnuha onto the front of her costume right in the middle of her chest. The rune, which looked like spiral with a weird squiggle in the middle of it, meant Destiny. She just hoped it wasn't her destiny to end up getting shot and knifed by a gang.

Taylor took a moment to make sure that her window didn't make any unusual sounds because she'd decided to not wait a moment longer than necessary. She was going out tonight to look for the ABB. To find their money. And to steal it.

Her pulse suddenly accelerating, Taylor waited for the clock to reach midnight.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Slipping out of her house was easier than she'd imagined. All she'd had to do was open her window, now carefully lubricated, and slide out while holding her staff, dropping to the ground. Looking back up at the window, Taylor could see that she should easily be able to make it back up there.

She set off at a fast run towards the general area of the Docks that the ABB considered their territory. Fortunately, one didn't grow up in Brockton Bay without knowing what areas to avoid so Taylor knew in general terms where to go. What she didn't know was the exact location she needed to find.

The entire time she ran, Taylor tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible. One good point for her somewhat crude costume was that it was dark, but not black, and faded into shadows. Something which was about to get tested as she saw a police cruiser heading towards her with all of its lights off.

Coming to a stop next to a tree, she quickly squatted down low and held perfectly still. The police car slowly came even with her, the sounds of its engine and radio clearly audible to her. For a second, Taylor thought it was going to stop, but it kept on going. She waited a few more seconds until it turned the corner, then sprinted as fast as she possibly could in the opposite direction.

It felt so good to cut loose and actually run, Taylor thought, exulting in the feeling of the blood pumping through her veins. She wasn't sure how fast she was going, but it had to be pushing highway speeds. Despite her speed, she was making hardly any noise, her footfalls curiously muffled as though she was barely touching the ground.

Arriving in an area where she thought that the ABB conducted business, Taylor extended her senses. The only problem was that the voices she heard weren't, for the most part, speaking English. Maybe she should have studied Chinese or Japanese instead of Spanish.

Regardless, Taylor was determined to have something to show for her time tonight, so she kept moving. She allowed her nostrils to sample the air as well, money having a certain smell to it that couldn't be duplicated by anything else. In the end, it took her about an hour to find the scent of a great deal of dirty money and begin following it to its source.

From the corner of a building one block over, Taylor studied the building from which the scent of money emanated. She knew she was in over her head. From the cascade of heartbeats coming from within, there were seventy-three people inside. Some probably weren't gang members, as she could smell women's hygiene products and deodorants, but at least twenty or so were, an acrid scent she thought must be gunpowder giving it away. Plus, she had no idea if either Lung or Oni Lee were inside.

There were other sounds coming from within, faint bells and noises like wheels spinning. It seemed odd for a possible drug factory, but she was far from an expert on such things. There was a ton of money present and that was what she was here for. Anything else was superfluous.

The building in question was a simple three story structure that looked like it might have once been a small factory. Faint odors of oil and other chemicals lingered around it, but their sources smelling like they were long gone. There were no windows on the ground floor, although there were a few on the upper floors, out of reach of most people. Although probably not out of reach for her, Taylor mused.

It would be stupid to try to go inside, especially since she was not only alone, but relatively unprepared for any opposition. Taylor hesitated, reluctant to retreat. Maybe she should just see if she could get up to the level of the windows and look inside? Surely that couldn't hurt anything?

She glided forward, crossing the street to her target, her senses completely alert to any stimuli. She already knew there were no lookouts that could see in this direction as her senses would have registered their presence. However, that didn't mean that there weren't other safeguards in place. There could be alarms and the like, as well as motions sensors.

Speak of the devil, Taylor thought. She carefully skirted an area that seemed filled with an odd humming sound, likely one of the aforementioned senors. Just ahead, she could hear a person's heart beating, which meant if she went much further in that direction, she'd be seen by a lookout. However, there was a fairly narrow gap, about four feet wide, between where the motion sensors ended and where the live coverage began.

Studied the area above her, Taylor looked for any way to climb up there. She saw something she could grip about ten feet off the ground, some kind of conduit running along the outside of the building. From there, she could swing herself a body's length higher up the wall and hook her feet around the lower brace of an exterior AC unit, counting on her balance to allow her to make it.

Her ascent went pretty much as planned. Taylor squatted down and jumped straight up, catching the conduit with both hands. It felt pretty sturdy in her grasp, so she moved on to the next step of her plan. Swinging her body first to the left, then to the right, she used the resulting momentum to bring her body around until she was almost doing a handstand on the conduit, her back now to the wall.

From there, she was able to hook a foot under the AC brace, then do a kind of sit up so that she could reach the AC brace with her hands. The only problem came when her foot started to slip out from where she'd wedged it. Reaching out as fast as possible, she managed to grab the brace with one hand, holding on for dear life.

She took a couple of slow breaths, forcing her to relax, then decided to move on. Testing the brace for sturdiness, Taylor almost slipped again when the damn thing wiggled slightly in her hands. It was not nearly as sturdy as the conduit, but it should still do.

Taylor was careful to move slowly as she clambered on top of the actual AC unit itself. It creaked slightly, but held, if just barely. Slowly standing up, she was able to lean over so that she could see through a window that was only mostly occluded with filth.

Her view was of a long hallway that appeared completely deserted. Taylor listened to see if anyone was present just out of sight, but didn't detect anyone. Slowly reaching out, she checked to see if the window was locked. It was.

Dammit! Taylor silently cursed several times. She could break the window, but it might be heard by the building's inhabitants. She then tried to see if there was another way she could get inside. The roof looked to be about ten feet over her head, but trying to jump up there meant kicking off the AC unit she was standing on, something she was almost certain it would not be able to withstand. Again, if the AC went tumbling down the side of the building to land on the sidewalk below, there was no way it would not be heard.

Looking for another way up, Taylor saw seams in the building's exterior, something that was likely intended to be decorative. But she might be able to use them to slowly climb up the rest of the way to the roof. Taking off her boots, she tied the laces together and hooked them around her neck.

Tracing the seams with her fingers, Taylor reached for the highest set she could reach without jumping, about a foot above her head. The seams ran horizontally, spaced about every four feet, and were about an inch deep and wide. Gripping the one over her head, she hooked her toes into the next one down, and took her weight off of the AC unit.

Climbing the wall turned out to be anticlimactic. Taylor expected it to be a lot harder than it turned out to be.. But she was very strong for her weight, making gripping the tiny ledges relatively easy. That coupled with her innate sense of balance, made climbing using the seams fairly easy. At least it felt less risky than the AC unit had been.

Clambering over the low wall that bordered the roof, Taylor rolled over onto her back. She already knew the roof was deserted, but quickly checked for cameras and the like. There was nothing that was visible to even her enhanced senses. She quickly put her boots back on, tying them tightly. Rising to her feet, she silently crept around the roof, looking for a way in.

There was another rooftop hatch, not that dissimilar to the one in her new training building. She looked for any kind of alarm system, but didn't see any wires or contacts. She checked to see if it was locked. It wasn't!

But the room beneath was occupied, something that Taylor could tell by the sound of the two heartbeats directly beneath her. The two men were talking, but she could also hear the sounds of something hard clicking together, making her think that they were playing some kind of game.

Pacing the rooftop, Taylor checked for any escape routes before she even considered going inside. Of course, the side of the building the the most obvious. She could go down that wall a lot faster than she went up it. Staring over the edge, she considered even just jumping down. It was about twenty-eight feet to the ground. A drop of that distance probably wouldn't injure her so long as she rolled as she hit.

Taylor looked around her, and another idea popped into her head. The next building over on the south side was only about thirty feet away. Okay, maybe it was just a bit further. But she was pretty certain she could jump it. As fast as she could run, leaping that distance should be easy. Plus it was lower than the one she was currently on.

The book she'd read on parkour had shown people doing exactly that. If they could do it, then she should be able to as well. So that was three routes down, two of them sufficiently different that she should be able to get away from anyone chasing her.

Taylor moved back to the roof hatch, then hesitated. She could no longer hear the clicking sounds. Listening carefully, there was only one heartbeat coming from beneath her. The other she'd heard was retreating further into the building. There was no time like right now to enter as she would only be dealing with one foe.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor silently raised the roof hatch and dropped inside.

~~~~ATotD~~~~


	5. Chapter Five: The Gospel According to Li

**Chapter Five: The Gospel According to Lisa**

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor landed right next to a young man sitting on one side of a small table with a backgammon board upon it. His eyes were widening, utter shock on his face as she hammered him with her staff alongside the head. At the impact, his eyes rolled up and he started to collapse, two dice falling from his hand, hitting the ground, and showing snake eyes.

She immediately caught him with an arm around the waist and eased his slight weight onto the floor next to the table to make sure no one would hear the thumping noise of a body falling.

The young man she'd hit was probably in his early twenties, although truthfully, it was hard to judge. He was armed with a gun in a holster under his arm, which she removed and checked to see if it was loaded. Dropping the magazine, she pulled back the slide, ejecting a round in the chamber. Taylor almost tsk'ed as she knew that was not a safe way to carry an automatic pistol, a round already in the chamber. Chalk up one for her book on guns.

She carefully tossed the one round and the magazine containing the others through the hatchway above her head and onto the roof. The soft sounds as they hit the tar and gravel roof were almost inaudible.

Moving to the door, she listened carefully to make sure no one had heard her. Fortunately, there was no evidence her entrance and subsequent assault on the guard here had been discovered.

Then again, Taylor could see why. Or rather _hear_.

The sounds which had been audible only to her from outside, were now loud enough for anyone to heart. Bells and jingling sounds. The mechanical, tapping sounds of spinning wheels and the clatter of tumbling dice. Even as she listened, Taylor could heard what were probably coins cascading into some metal receptacle. It was bizarre and mystifying.

The only thing she could think of that fit all of the evidence of her ears was a casino. But why would there be a casino here, she wondered? Especially since Atlantic City, a place where you could legally gamble wasn't that far south. Then again, people were lazy. It might just be that they'd prefer to break the law here rather than travel half a day to the south in order to give away their money.

Taylor thought carefully about what to do with her newfound knowledge. In a lot of ways, it might just be to her benefit to rob a casino rather than a drug den. There might be fewer guards. On the other hand, there might be more. She really didn't know. However, if she didn't act, they would be far more prepared the next time when they talked to the guard she'd disabled. Needing to make a decision, she decided that since she was here, she might as well go ahead and go deeper inside to see if what she wanted to do was even feasible.

The sound of footsteps approaching made her move quickly to a position just behind the door. A moment later, it opened and another young man came through. He immediately spotted his friend, exclaiming, "Sun! What's wrong?"

Taylor let him take two steps into the room before striking him with careful precision directly behind the ear. He folded just as his friend had, and she dealt with his gun the same way. Then she took ten minutes to strip both young men down to their underwear, tear up their clothes, and use them to bind and gag them.

There, that should do the trick, she thought, examining their bound, supine forms. Now to explore further.

It wasn't hard to make her way further into the building. There didn't appear to be any more guards on this floor. Or anyone at all, really. The few doors she found led into empty storerooms, as well as a couple that had dusty and damaged slot machines. So she was probably right about the place being a casino.

Taylor located a stairway leading down to the second floor and followed it. This floor appeared to be partially inhabited, eight heartbeats coming from just ahead of her. Other than those eight, no one else seemed to be present. Moving forward toward a corner in the hallway, she paused a moment.

There were two people standing in front of a door several feet down the hallway from where she stood. The stink of cheap cologne and gunpowder came to her sensitive nostrils and Taylor knew that these were armed guards. She could also smell the dirty scent of money much stronger here than she had before, so she guessed they were guarding a counting room of some kind.

Whirring sounds coming from within the room pretty much confirmed her theory, although she couldn't understand the language being spoken by the room's inhabitants.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor launched herself around the corner, moving as fast as her body was capable of. The two men standing by the door were only starting to turn towards her as she reached them. The nearest she dealt with by driving the silvery end of her staff into his stomach. Even as he reacted to the impact, she was smashing a forearm to the other guard's head, her blow sliding right past the man's slow motion block. At the strike's impact, he collapsed toward the ground. Not deigning to grab him with her arms, instead, Taylor attempted to catch him with the back of her calf even as she was spinning around to deal with the first man she'd hit. It was a test of her balance, but she managed it.

Then it was only a matter of hitting the last man in the back of the head with her staff as he was bent over clutching his stomach and struggling to breath. He bonelessly collapsed, while she eased him to the floor with an arm around his midsection. She glanced at their guns, but decided that speed was more important than caution at this point, and left them in their holsters. Instead, she moved over and used her senses on the door and those it guarded.

Unfortunately, she couldn't detect by scent whether there were more guns inside. The good news, on the other hand, was the heartbeats of the men inside stayed constant so Taylor decided that no one had heard her attack out here. Regardless, there were six more men inside. Even if they weren't armed, she couldn't be sure of taking them down easily.

It wasn't just her opposition that worried her. The door, itself, looked to be made of steel, strong enough that even she might not be able to take it down. If she hit it and didn't take it down instantly, it would alert the people inside. Then they would be ready for her.

Walking into a hail of gunfire didn't appeal to Taylor in any way, shape, form, or fashion. Maybe she could hit it with a lightning bolt instead?

Taylor was considering doing just that when she heard a loud crashing sound emanating from the first floor floor of the building, where the main casino floor seemed to be located. Cries of fear and alarm rang out from the men and women gambling there. Inside the room, she heard a couple of shouts, then the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

Stepping to the side away from the hinge, Taylor watched as the door swung violently open, slamming back into the wall behind it, its mass made obvious by the loud booming sound its impact made. She tripped the first figure running out with her staff, causing him to slam face first into the floor, while two more men tripped over him. She kicked the first man in the head, and used her staff with quick, careful strikes to the back of the head to deal with the other two.

Then she was moving into the room, her staff held ahead of her. Taylor saw an older man standing at the other side of the from her, looking intently through blinds at something while speaking loudly on his cell phone, Two other younger men were busy frantically shoveling cash into two duffel bags.

One of those two men had been looking at the door, probably having heard at least some of the noise from her attack on the men who'd left. He was already reaching for a gun as she headed towards him. Taylor didn't give him time to pull it, leaping into a spinning back kick and hitting his arm hard enough to break bones. He cried out in pain, then flew backwards as she followed that up with a front kick that knocked him into the far wall, where he collapsed, out cold. The other man dropped to the floor to avoid his friend's body, his gun already in his hand and aimed her way. Making a split second decision, Taylor hopped forward and landed with all her weight on the hand with the gun in it, crushing it into the ground.

A gunshot rang out, striking the wall somewhere behind her with a whupping sound. The man screamed, several of the bones in his hand broken by the impact. Taylor winced at the sound, then struck him in the head with her staff, as much to shut him up as to end any danger he posed. She looked towards the older man, but he raised his hands, shouting, "I am unarmed! Please do not hurt me!"

Taylor decided not to answer the man's plea, as she didn't want to give away any details of her identity if she didn't have to. But neither did she attack him, noticing there was no telltale bulge of a gun. Instead, she bent down and grabbed both duffel bags, pulling their tops closed with a quick yank, then slinging the straps of each over her head so that one hung on either side of her body. She checked around her with a quick glance, but other than the older man who was still standing with his hands up, there was no one else around.

Even as she took one last look at the money room, the noise level from beneath was getting a lot louder. Taylor heard shouts to get down on the floor, loud growling sounds, and panicked screams. Whatever was happening down there made for one hell of a distraction, but at the same time it was pretty damn scary. Another scream, this one filled with pain and terror, rang out. Shit! She needed to get out of here right now!

Running for the door, Taylor immediately felt the drag of the money. She was probably carrying over sixty extra pounds between both bags. It wasn't that hard from a pure muscle point of view, but she had to compensate for the way it changed her center of balance and increased her inertia and momentum.

Fortunately, that was easily done, and Taylor was moving fast when she hit the corner leading towards the staircase and the way out. However, as soon as she turned the corner, she ran right into two people heading her way, a billowing cloud of darkness filling the hallway behind them, almost as if it were following them.

The first was a blonde girl dressed in a skintight purple costume with a domino mask. She was accompanied by a much taller figure dressed all in leather with a black motorcycle helmet with skull mask hiding his identity. The strange black mist seemed to be emanating from somewhere inside of him. Even as Taylor's mind screamed "Capes!" in extreme alarm, she was swinging Umrahnuha in a vicious spinning attack that slipped past his block and slammed into the tall man's helmet, sending him crashing backward.

The rebound found Taylor swinging back around to strike the blonde, who was reaching for a gun at her waist, directly in the stomach as hard as she could. The girl instantly collapsed onto the floor, coughing up blood. Taylor didn't have time to dwell on the fact that she had probably hit the girl too hard because she still had to deal with the man, who was struggling unsteadily to his feet, more darkness erupting from his form in drabs and spurts.

She swept his feet with her staff knocking him off his feet into the black mist, then slammed it approximately where she knew his stomach had to be. An agonized grunt confirmed that she'd hit pretty much where she'd intended, even if she could no longer see him. However, the sounds were curiously muffled, as if coming from a much greater distance away.

Her foes temporarily vanquished, she knelt down to check the girl, who only seemed to be semi-conscious, her eyes closed. Even as she watched, the girl coughed out some more blood, choking on it. Taking the girl's neck in one hand, Taylor pushed healing out from herself, wincing as she realized just how badly she'd hurt the girl with her blow she hadn't pulled in her own fear and desperation. She had a sense of several damaged organs inside the girl healing all at once, as well as something else deeply wrong with her.

Inside her head was something strange and sickening, as if some malignant cancer was at work. At the same time, it didn't seem to be actually doing _anything_ at that moment. Instead it was just lying there, quiescent inside of her. Since whatever the thing was that lay inside the girl was both pre-existing and so utterly bizarre, Taylor was hesitant to try to heal it. Instead, she left it alone, moving her hand away and feeling a sense of relief as the disgusting sensation faded. She felt a sense of satisfaction as she watched the blonde's green eyes pop open, a look of shock visible on the exposed portions of her face.

Taylor didn't give her time to say or do anything, instead rising to her feet and running directly into the darkness ahead of her. Instinctively, she dodged the flailing arm that tried to trip her. Despite the muffling darkness, she knew roughly how far the staircase that led upward was and headed that way at a quick run. Regardless of sure she was about her surroundings, Taylor still felt relief when she found the stairs where she'd expected them to be and began racing up them.

Seconds later, Taylor rose into clear air and sped toward her exit. Arriving in the room with the hatch, she saw that one of the men there was awake. Angry dark brown eyes glared at her over the gag in his mouth, but she ignored him in favor of getting out of there. She jumped up and grabbed the edge of the hatch, then pulled herself up. There was a moment when one of the bags she was carrying caught on the edge of the opening, but she managed to muscle through and onto the roof's surface.

Taylor slammed the hatch back down, then raced across the roof as fast as she could run, timing her leap precisely as she hit the parapet surrounding the roof. Using every last bit of the strength in her legs, she thrust herself forward as far as she possible could as a sensation of immense space yawned beneath her. Then she was coming down hard towards the lower rooftop, hitting feet first, then rolling forward to bleed off her momentum.

Losing just enough of that force so that it no longer threatened injury, Taylor used the remainder of her momentum to send her back to her feet after one final roll, already running again. Then she hit the edge of the rooftop and leaped to the next. Traversing that one allowed her to feel comfortable enough to think she could take the time to get back on the street. She swung over the edge of the far parapet and dropped.

Taylor allowed herself to collapse into a deep squat, absorbing the shock of the fifteen foot fall, then she was off and running again. She was heading somewhere between parallel and opposite to the direction of her house, heading roughly northwest. It was important that she make sure she wasn't being followed before she went anywhere near her home.

Adrenaline was still pouring through her body, as well as a sense of exultation as she realized that she had gotten away with robbing the ABB. _She'd robbed the ABB!_ Screw them and every horse they ever rode in on, Taylor thought in triumph. _She'd won._

Unfortunately, a moment later, she heard the heavy footfalls and loud breathing of several huge _somethings_ running behind her. It was enough to make her wonder if it could be the same creatures that had roared in the casinos. She turned a corner, but maintained the same speed. A minute later, the footfalls changed direction as well, still following her, and slowly drawing closer. It had to be those damn capes she'd taken down, Taylor decided, feeling annoyed and worried at the same time. Maybe she should have broken that blonde girl's leg after she healed her, she thought facetiously. At least it would have stopped the girl from following her

She increased her speed, forcing herself to move with every bit of speed her new physique was capable of. Her legs blurred as she raced down the street. Pushing her senses out to their max, Taylor thought that she was pulling away from whoever was following her. Not daring to relax, she kept up her pace, but slowly starting to feel the strain.

Finally, Taylor had to slow down. She was still moving faster than a human sprinter, but not even half as fast as she'd been running. She also took the next left, moving perpendicularly to her former heading.

Unfortunately, she could still hear her pursuers, who didn't appear to have slowed at all. Taylor couldn't understand how they could still be following her as she was far quieter than they could ever be. Did they have heightened senses as well, she wondered, or some more esoteric ability that allowed them to know where she was going?

Deciding to make things a bit harder on them, Taylor sped up again, this time looking for a place to lay low. Less than a minute later, she found a building that seemed perfect. Hurdling the six foot fence that surrounded it, she headed towards the partially erected building, and was soon hiding amidst some disassembled scaffolding piled alongside the interior of the open structure. There she waited to see who would show up, her ears and nose focused upon her surroundings as she couldn't see through the mass of material covering her.

Soon her pursuers closed on her position and Taylor listened to their voices as they discussed what to do.

First was a deep male voice that said, "Tattletale, we need to get the fuck out of here! Lung and Oni Lee are going to be looking for whoever ripped them off. Plus, you said the PRT's already been tipped off that something went down and they're heading out in force! Let's call it a night."

A calm girl's voice responded, "We can't go home empty-handed, Grue. Lung's going to hold us responsible whether we have the cash or not."

A higher pitched boy's voice said in a snarky tone, "Yeah, so I vote for the cash if we're going to get blamed anyway."

The deep male voice spoke again, "I'm just trying to make sure we live to fight another day. So where is our mystery cape, Tattletale."

So the calm voice belonged to someone named Tattletale, Taylor thought. She wondered if that was the blonde. A moment later, Tattletale said, "She's close. I think she's over there. Isn't that right, thief?"

The last part was said in a louder voice, but Taylor didn't respond or move in any way. She doubted that the other girl could actually see her if she, with her fantastic eyesight, couldn't see the other girl. Plus, the place she'd chosen to take refuge in didn't seem like an obvious hiding place. You had to be a lot closer and have excellent night vision to find it. Otherwise, it just looked like a solid pile.

Taylor listened as the earlier male voice quietly whispered, "Do you really know where she is?"

An even quieter whisper from Tattletale answered him, "No, and now she knows that. I told you she had heightened senses."

The boy dropped his voice just as low. "Seriously? She can hear us? _I_ can barely hear us."

Tattletale's voice returned to normal. "Yes. Heightened senses. Lightning reflexes. Mover speed. Brute strength. And an invisible club. She's the entire package. Too bad she's not the only one who has increased senses."

There was a pregnant silence, then two loud somethings began galloping towards Taylor's hiding place. Spinning out of it, she rose to her feet to see two nightmarish creatures heading her way, having torn through the fence like it was wet toilet paper. The size of cars, they were immense masses of exposed muscle and bony plates, crusted with disgusting masses of dried liquid. Jaws that looked like they could swallow her whole were filled with fangs longer than her hands.

Without a second's hesitation, Taylor triggered two lighting bolts which blasted down from a clear sky, impaling the two creatures. The flash was blinding, but her eyes seemed to instantly adjust, no afterimages playing across them. In front of her, the two creatures took a couple of staggering steps forwards, little bolts of electricity playing across their bodies, then soundlessly collapsed in steaming piles of torn and shattered flesh.

One of the human figures on the other side of the fence from her, a girl wearing a dog mask, screamed in fury and anguish, "Brutus! Angelica! _You fucker! I'm going to kill you!_ "

Not waiting to see what she or the rest of the capes in front of her were going to do, Taylor raced away. One of her calf muscles momentarily twitched madly, but she corrected her balance almost instantly and kept running. Then she was around a corner and heading off at about three quarter speed.

Cries of rage and sorrow pursued her. Taylor winced at just how descriptive some of the dog girl's threats were. She was quite certain she didn't want anyone eviscerating her with a rusty knife, then using her intestines to strangle her to death. Fortunately, the blonde cape, Tattletale, calmed her teammate down enough that she didn't try to pursue her using her last monster.

Gradually, the sounds of the capes behind her faded. It seemed clear now that they'd been riding the creatures while pursuing her, probably using their sense of smell to follow. Hopefully, they wouldn't be able to catch her scent again, but just in case, Taylor took to the rooftops again as soon as she could, doing so several more times over the next dozen blocks.

After several minutes of hard running, Taylor felt a sense of weariness filling her. She wasn't sure just how much longer she could continue to move like this, but she'd never be able to keep such a fast pace all the way home. Even now she was only moving about half speed, all of that sprinting and climbing, all the while carrying the two bags of cash, wearing on her.

Once Taylor was halfway home, she slowed to a more human jog, one she could keep up indefinitely, and began being even more careful about being observed. She avoided all of the traffic cameras she saw as well as any late night traffic.

Over the past few minutes, she'd been hearing sirens in the distance, and figured that the police and the PRT were responding to the casino robbery. She needed to be especially careful now, as the last thing she wanted was to lead anyone, even the authorities, to her home and put herself or her dad in danger.

Her legs were trembling by the time Taylor reached her yard. She was literally starving, she thought, listening to her stomach rumble. She was also finally feeling the cold, something which had not really been affecting her much since she'd gained her powers. Once in her room, she closed the window behind her, then put the bags of money in the bottom of her closet, piling dirty clothes on top of them.

Taylor got undressed and into her pajamas and a robe, before she headed downstairs to make herself a quick snack. She ended up eating a couple of dozen Ritz crackers with cheddar cheese, while drinking three cups of hot sweet tea. After she finished, she washed her dishes and refilled the kettle, then headed off to bed.

However, even as tired as she was, sleep eluded her. Finally, she got back up and dragged the money back out of her closet, dumping it out onto her bed. A second later, something else occurred to her. Taylor quickly checked the bags for any kind of tracking devices, which fortunately weren't present, then set out to count and organize it all.

Three hours later, she felt like she could finally sleep. Taylor had two hundred and ninety-one thousand, six hundred and seventy-five dollars in the bags which were now stowed in the basement, hidden inside of the old coal chute. That should be more than enough money to help Seon's family move out of Brockton Bay, keeping them supported until they found work in their new city.

Closing her eyes, her head on her pillow, Taylor was asleep almost instantly, monster dogs pursuing her even in her dreams.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Lisa ordered, "Go!"

Bitch's gesture and whistle sent her dogs crashing through the front of the building before them, treating glass, stucco, and Sheetrock as equal opportunity obstacles. Screams were already resounding from within as she and the rest of the Undersiders headed inside.

Pandemonium reigned inside of the Ruby Dreams Casino as patrons and security alike scattered before Bitch's dogs. Lisa grinned at the chaos, knowing that despite the fear and panic the people around her felt, none of them were in any real danger. So long as they kept their heads down, they would be fine. Not that the guards were likely to, though, some of whom were already being treated as chew toys by Bitch's dogs for attacking them.

Lisa made a quick gesture towards a staircase off to their left and Brian nodded, following her in that direction. Behind her, she heard Alec yelling for everyone to get down, the zapping sound of his taser indicating that at least one person was a bit too slow in follow his instructions. Or maybe he just wanted to tase someone. Occasionally, he could be contrary like that.

Lisa felt her grin grow at just how perfectly everything was going. It vindicated her plan to hit the casino instead of doing the corporate espionage job that Brian had wanted to do. He'd felt that the casino could wait for a later date, but once she'd realized that both Lung and Oni Lee were occupied across town with their rivalry with Empire 88, she'd argued that they absolutely had to act.

Of course the fact that they would earn nearly four times as much for this score as the espionage job had gotten Rachel and Alec on her side. Brian had argued briefly, but in the end had caved in. After all, he needed the additional money as much or more than any of the rest of them.

Now they were just minutes away from a quarter of a million dollar haul at the very least.

Heading down the hallway, Brian kept a wall of his darkness behind them. Once they got closer to the men guarding the cash room, he'd sweep it over them, using the fact that it was as easy for him to see through as air to take them down. Then it would be rinse and repeat inside the money room itself.

If the door leading there proved to be too tough, they'd have one of Bitch's dogs tear it apart. Lisa hadn't been able to get any information on what was installed here, so she'd gone with her best guess. Regardless of the door's construction, it wouldn't delay them long.

As they neared the hallway corner, a figure carrying two duffel bags came running around the corner. Even as Lisa's power kicked in, analyzing the other person, she reached for the pistol at her waist. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a futile gesture. Feeling like she was moving in slow motion compared to the other cape, Lisa was savagely struck in the stomach before she could even complete the motion. At the impact, there was a sensation of something rupturing inside of her and she collapsed to the floor.

Lying on her back upon the floor, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth, Lisa's power fast forwarded information to her as she slipped in and out of consciousness.

 _Cheap jeans. Hoodie. Home-made costume. Mask stiffened with cardboard. Rushed to make. Urgent need for it tonight._

 _Symbol on costume's chest. Symbol !$#* !_

 _Very low quality costume. Newly triggered cape. First time out._

 _Duffel bags are full of money. Defeated the guards behind her. Stole almost the entire contents of the casino cash room._

 _Moving far faster than a normal human. Running superhumanly fast. Mover rating._

 _Near instantaneous reaction to being confronted by two strange capes. Heightened reflexes. Minimum four times faster than an ordinary human being._

 _Moving easily despite carrying heavy bags of cash on her shoulders. Far stronger than normal girl her size. Brute rating._

 _Extreme sense of balance, easily compensating for mismatched weights of bags._

 _Invisible object in her hands, club or staff. Strikes are more powerful than movement of hands would suggest._

 _Able to locate Brian despite darkness. Heightened senses. Touch, hearing, smell-_

Lisa coughed up more blood, her power frizzing, then groaned as it helpfully told her what was wrong with her.

 _Blood in mouth and throat. Ruptured stomach lining._

 _Pain in abdomen. Damaged spleen, liver, large intestine, lungs. Bleeding internally._

 _Dying. Damage surgically unrepairable in time available. Bleeding out in ten minutes. Death inevitable without Parahuman intervention._

Lisa felt a gentle touch on her neck, thankful that the last human contact she would likely receive wasn't violent. Then something passed through her, a feeling similar to sticking her finger into an electric socket, as if every nerve in her body was firing at once. She took a deep breath, air flooding her lungs, as her entire body felt incredibly energized. Still, as good as it felt, something inside of her quailed at the feeling, something which even her power couldn't decipher.

She struggled to sit up and turn around, but her assailant and savior was already lost in Brian's darkness. Lurching to her feet, Lisa gloried in the sensation of sheer wellness she felt, her memory of the strange fear already fading. It was as if Panacea, New Wave's healer, had just given her a total body tune up. It was pretty damn awesome. Even the fading bruises of the torture that Brian called training were completely gone as if they'd never existed.

They needed to get out of there immediately. Using her power, Lisa located Brian and dragged him to his feet. She ordered, "Come on, we have to go."

Looking stunned and a bit groggy, Brian said, "What about the money?"

"That girl who just manhandled us has our money. Now let's go."

Predictably, he grew angry. "Shit! We're going to take the heat for this, you know. Lung's going to come after us and we don't even have anything to show for it."

"If you move your ass, we might. We're going after her and getting our money back. We'll see how she likes Bitch's dogs."

The girl's Brute rating wouldn't make a bit of difference when it came to dealing with Rachel, she thought in satisfaction. Focusing upon her teammate, Lisa didn't need to see Brian's face to read him, his body language always gave him away. So she saw, rather than heard, his relief as he said, "Fine. Let's go."

It took them less than a minute to get the others and evacuate. Then Lisa set her power to evaluating the other cape's exit strategy.

 _Heading up. Entered through roof. Using rooftops to travel. Direction is north... west._

Lisa quickly told Rachel, "Bitch, we need to go that way. Our money's there." She said the last sentence to forestall the argument she could already see brewing in her teammate's body language.

"Fuck. All right. Angelica, Bentley, Brutus, go!"

The monster dogs responded to their master's verbal commands and took off. Aboard Angelica, Lisa allowed herself to fall into her power, although she was already getting a headache from the effort of analyzing the other cape's escape when added to her earlier use. She still didn't know what the hell had happened with that symbol on the girl's crappy costume. Just thinking about it fucked with her head, forcing her to focus on something else.

 _Heading northwest. Home in opposite direction. No, home is-_

Lisa deliberately stopped that train of thought. She didn't need to know where the girl was from, she needed to know where she was going. Plus, it would be far too likely that her power would give her erroneous information if she tried to backtrack the other cape to her house. It was too long distance a chain. Her power was far to vulnerable to that old saying: garbage in, garbage out.

 _Heading northwest. Will sense pursuit using enhanced senses. Will redirect path to make sure. Will head southwest... now._

"Turn that way. She's changed direction."

She ignored Alec's muttered, "How the fuck do you know that?"

Instead of answering, Lisa focused upon what the other cape was doing next.

 _Will continue to run until she gets tired. Superhuman endurance. Can run for at least three more minutes at full speed. Outrunning dogs at that speed. After that, requires time to rest. Will slow and seek hiding place if we continue pursuit._

Okay, so that was the key. Lisa kept up refinements on where her power indicated the other was going. Until they finally stood before a construction site, the building inside already partially assembled, surrounded by a six foot chain link fence. Inside the fence, the entire site was a mass of darkness and shadows, with far too many hiding places to search them all in the time they had.

Lisa tried to use her power, but it didn't help, putting out different answers ranging from in the main building to already had left. Plus, her head was really starting to hurt. Fuck! As awesome as she usually was, sometimes it still sucked to be her. Then she had an idea to run a bluff.

Turning to Brian, she deliberately smirked at him, knowing how he would respond to the provocation.

In a low angry tone, he took her to task, "Tattletale, we need to get the fuck out of here! Oni Lee's going to be looking for whoever ripped them off! Plus, you said the PRT's already been tipped off that something went down and they'll be out in force! Let's call it a night."

Oh yeah, he was pissed, Lisa thought. Aloud, she said, "We can't go home empty-handed, Grue. Lung's going to hold us responsible whether we have the cash or not."

Alec, being Alec, chimed in then, "Yeah, so I vote for the cash if we're going to get blamed anyway."

Brian sounded ready to toss in the towel. "I'm just trying to make sure we live to fight another day. So where is our mystery cape, Tattletale."

Lisa decided to use her first bluff right then. "She's close. I think she's over there. Isn't that right, thief?"

For a second, she thought that it had worked. When she realized it hadn't, Lisa frowned, allowing her power to activate again. In spite of the increase in the splitting headache she currently had, she now knew how to handle her next foray.

Brian, whose body language was bursting with curiosity, clearly wanted to talk to her. Lisa made a hushed gesture, making him ask in a whisper, 'Do you really know where she is?"

In an even quieter whisper, Lisa said, "No, and now she knows that. I told you she had heightened senses."

Brian dropped his voice to match hers. "Seriously? _She_ can hear us? _I_ can barely hear us."

Putting her plan in motion, Lisa gestured with two fingers toward Rachel, then held up a closed fist. The girl nodded, her dissatisfaction visible, but willing to go along with her for now.

In a normal voice, Lisa said, "Yes. Heightened senses. Lightning reflexes. Mover speed. Brute strength. And an invisible club. She's the entire package. Too bad she's not the only one who has increased senses!"

With that last sentence, Lisa swept her hand forward, and Rachel gestured for two of her dogs to leap forward.

It worked just as Lisa had hoped. As soon as Brutus and Angelica sprang forward, tearing through the fence, their thief gave her position away. Grinning as she caught her first look at the other since they'd began their pursuit of her, Lisa felt a sense of triumph. After all, despite all of the abilities she'd shown, she was physically no match for Rachel's dogs. If necessary, they could send Bentley in after her as well, making it impossible for her escape.

Of course, the best scenario was one where the unknown cape just abandoned the money and took off. They wouldn't go after her if she did. Hell, Lisa would argue with letting her go if she just left half of the money there. After all, with how competently she'd acted tonight, she'd earned it. If they played it right, they might even be able to recruit her. Lisa would know more when she had time to use her powers on-

The bright flash that interrupted her train of thought was stunning. Lisa barely registered the other cape's escape as she watched, horrified, as Brutus and Angelica were hammered to the ground by twin bolts of lightning that hit like the hand of God. How the fuck had she missed that? What other abilities was their thief hiding?

Registering Rachel's anger and desire for revenge a moment later, Lisa managed to calm the other down by telling her that her dogs were still alive inside their casings, but needed to be cut out. She really didn't know if they were, as any attempt now to further access her ability would result in a debilitating migraine so intense she'd be out for days. Fortunately, her lie kept the girl from running off and trying to get revenge, likely getting herself killed in the process.

Brian, predictably, blamed Lisa for the way things went. "Fuck! Tattletale, why the hell did you have us go after that girl when she could do that? She could have killed us all! You should have at least given me a heads up so that I could shield us from her view!"

He'd begun making darkness almost as soon as the lightning strikes happened, making sure they weren't easy targets. Lisa wished just once that Brian didn't react the way she expected whenever any plan that he hadn't backed didn't succeed. She brooded over the way things had gone, before finally saying, "She wouldn't have used those on us. They're lethal attacks and she already knows how squishy you and I are. The dogs spooked her and she reacted with overkill."

Alec twirled his scepter. His tone more wry than anything, he said, "Well, you had better hope that Bitch's dogs are all right. Or she's going to take it out on you. Oh, by the way, she pretty much ignored my power when I tried to trip her."

Fortunately, that seemed to be the cue for Rachel to arrive, accompanied by all three of her dogs, two of them normal sized. To Lisa's admittedly inexpert eye, Brutus and Angelica seemed fine. Still, she made sure to ask.

"Bitch, are your dogs okay?"

The girl, her anger apparent in every line of her body, nodded once. "Yes. They're fine. I need to get them back home."

Maintaining a calm demeanor, something a must with Rachel, Lisa said, "That's where we're going right now."

Alec muttered, "And without the money, Goddammit." With that pithy declaration, the group settled into a brooding silence for the remainder of their trip home.

As they made their way back to their warehouse base, Lisa mulled over what had happened. The coincidence of hitting the casino just as the other cape was making her escape, making it seem as if it were the Undersiders that were responsible for the entire operation. Lung would certainly think so. It was incredibly bad luck for a group that had been nothing but successful thus far through more than a dozen operations.

She also considered the cape who'd opposed, then escaped from them. All of those abilities in just one Parahuman, and a healer to boot, she was a dangerous challenge. Once Lisa's Thinker migraine had faded, she'd spend more time considering the other's body language and demeanor. As well as that strange symbol on her chest.

While she still hoped that the other girl might choose to join them out of a sense of self-preservation, healers being especially vulnerable to being shanghaied by whatever group encountered them first, she had the sneaking suspicion the girl considered herself a hero, making it unlikely she'd ever be the teammate of a group of villains.

Of course that begged the question of why, if she considered herself to be a hero, she was out robbing a casino run by a villain gang? It didn't run true to form, and Lisa looked forward to spending more time in contemplation of the mystery of their thief and her motivations. Wincing at the sudden spike of pain in her head, at least once she'd had a chance to rest and recuperate.

In the meantime, Lisa rallied her arguments for the blame game that would begin once they finally arrived back home. The things one had to put up with when one had a gun to her head. In her own case, quite literally.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Seon saw Taylor a couple of times the next day, but she didn't speak to him, so he figured she'd already given up. Not that he blamed her. At this point, with his membership in the ranks of the ABB almost assured, it was probably better that they weren't connected in any way. It wouldn't be good for him as a new recruit to be seen as disloyal, and the last thing the girl who'd been a victim for a year and a half needed was to attract the attention of the ABB.

Of course he did see both Nam and Zhang that day, both boys making sure to shoulder check him while sending meaningful looks his way. They'd given him until Friday to choose. Still, he was surprised that they didn't press him harder. Instead, both boys looked a little distracted, as if they had bigger fish to fry. It was weird to see the same look on the face of a thug as he sometimes saw on the face of his little sister.

Not that they were stupid thugs, Seon mused. The two senior boys, while hard and occasionally cruel, were far from idiots. There had been made significant improvements in the numbers of recruits at Winslow under their leadership, even before they'd stopped taking no for an answer. He briefly wondered if they got recruitment bonuses before trying to focus on his schoolwork once more.

When school finally finished, Seon was just glad that he was done for the day. He'd struggled to concentrate on his difficult self-study regimen all day, something which would affect his grades if he continued to do so for the remainder of the week. His grades depended both on his intellect and a study regimen that shamed most college students.

He met his sister's bus and walked her home, something which he did now as a matter of course. Jennifer wasn't safe to be left alone at home, let alone while out in public. Even understanding the reasons for her partial incarceration, she was already chafing at not being allowed to spend time with her friends. Well, soon she'd be able to spend as much time as she wanted with those stupid little bitches, Seon thought bitterly.

He was immediately ashamed at the thought. After all, it wasn't his sister's fault that he was being targeted. If anything, it was fate, something which could not be changed.

Seon couldn't study and had gotten up to make any early start on dinner when there was a knock on the door. Opening it, he was surprised to see Taylor Hebert standing on the other side.

″What do you want?″ He almost winced at his confrontational tone, but managed to keep an impassive expression on his face. Mostly.

″Can I come in?″

Taylor's response was said in a neutral tone, but he'd seen the flash of temper in her eyes for a moment. Seon opened the door to let the girl in.

Once inside, she asked, ″Is your sister home?″

He nodded. ″Yes. She's in her room sulking because she can't go to any of her friend's homes right now.″

″Girls her age need their friends. It feels like the world's ending when you're separated from them.″

That was a bit more reflective than Seon had expected. He waited a few seconds, but when Taylor didn't say anything else, he finally asked, ″Why are you really here, Taylor?″

She turned to look at Seon and he flinched. There was something hard and utterly inflexible in her eyes. Something which pushed some of the same buttons that Nam did, even if older boy looked more dangerous on the surface.

In a slow, careful voice that allowed no arguments or compromise, Taylor said, ″I want you to go into your sister's room and keep her there until I leave. I'm going to talk to your parents when they get home. When they ask, and they will, don't tell them anything about me. I'm just a classmate of yours. Do you understand me?″

Seon couldn't argue with the look in those eyes. He wanted to, desperately so, as well as ask a million questions, but couldn't bring himself to vocalize the words. Instead, he merely nodded and went to see his sister.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor watched the boy walk away, heading upstairs. A moment later, a door opened, then closed. A brief argument went on, but she forced herself not to pay attention to it. Instead, she looked around the house for the first time since she'd entered.

The Li's lived in a simple two story house that was filled with all of the little touches that made a house a home, from framed pictures of the kids taken over a variety of dates, to little touches of bright colors around the room from several different craft projects.

It was similar to the home that Taylor had grown up in, possessing that same warmth from when her mother was alive, yet at the time, utterly different. Certainly there was no Buddhist shrine in her home, she decided in amusement, staring at the little fat man with his serene expression.

Taylor sighed, her thoughts turning away from the room she was in and back towards her day. Despite last night's exertions, she hadn't been the tiniest bit tired when she'd gotten up that morning, something which had surprised her. So she'd gone out on her usual morning run, as if nothing had happened the night before. Now she just wanted the entire situation to be over with.

It was why she'd came here as soon as she picked up the bag of money from her house. Well that, and because she wanted to make sure no one from the ABB was watching the Li's house. Fortunately, they weren't. Not that Taylor had really expected them to as the Li's were pretty small fry in the grand scheme of things, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The bag at her feet was fairly small to have two hundred thousand dollars in it. But what Taylor had discovered when she'd counted all of the money from her casino heist, was that about half the money by weight was large bills, fifties and hundreds, while the other half was five, tens, and twenties. So even though she'd only kept ninety-one thousand and change out of the money she'd stolen, it bulked quite a bit larger than the amount she was giving the Li's.

Two hundred thousand dollar should be more than enough money to allow them to start a new life somewhere far from here, Taylor thought in satisfaction. That was roughly three years of wages for both of Seon's parents together. Later, once they sold their house, they would have that money as well, allowing them to pay off a new mortgage.

Not that Taylor really cared what they ended up doing with the money, so long as they did in Michigan, Indiana, or some other mid-western state where they would be free from gangs for the most part. There, they wouldn't be targeted for recruitment by gangs simply because they were from Korea.

She heard a car pull into the driveway, then the garage door open. A moment later, the car parked and the door began closing again. The Li's would be walking inside any moment now. Time to set the stage.

Walking into the kitchen, Taylor sat down at the kitchen table, forcing herself to relax. She needed to make the proper impression on the two adults she was about to speak with so that they would take what she said seriously. If they didn't and stayed in Brockton Bay, then everything that she'd done to help them would have been in vain, something that didn't sit well with her.

A moment later, Mr and Mrs Li walked into the kitchen. Both of them looked tired, complexions almost gray, with deep set lines at the corners of their eyes and mouths. It was as if they were already grieving for their son, even though he was still alive and at home with them. Taylor supposed that to the two of them, as inevitable as the issue seemed, it was as if they'd already lost him.

Mrs Li noticed her first, frowning as if she couldn't quite understand why there was a strange teenage girl in her kitchen sitting at the table. She nudged her husband, who turned and did a double take. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Finally, Mr Li asked, ″Who are you? Are you one of Seon's friends?″

″No, I'm not. I know your son, but we're not friends. Mr and Mrs Li, I'm here to solve all of your problems. So listen carefully while I tell you what you need to do tomorrow if you don't want to lose your son.″ She looked from husband to wife, then continued, ″Why don't you have a seat so we can talk about what you're going to do.″

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The next morning, Taylor set out a bit earlier than usual for her morning run, soon arriving near the same spot she'd used the day before to observe the Li's house. Climbing on top of a neighbor's house, she moved across its roof until she could see their house.

A few minutes after six, the garage door opened and the Li's car, a nondescript four door Ford sedan, backed out of the garage and slowly headed west.

Looking carefully at the car, Taylor didn't notice anything unusual about it. Nothing was piled up so that it was visible from the outside. Instead, it was merely a family of four out for an early breakfast before they had to go to work and school.

Except they weren't. Instead, the Li's were heading out of Brockton Bay, out onto US 290, then west on Interstate 70. There weren't going to stop except for gas or bathroom breaks before they'd driven at least four hours. Not that they were going to stop for the night while so close.

Instead, they'd drive almost the entire day, finally stopping that evening after driving twelve to fourteen hours. If they followed the plan precisely, then tomorrow or the next day, they'd pick out a place at least three hours south of the interstate in some state no closer than Louisiana, but not so far away as Arizona.

Taylor had asked them not to tell her exactly where they were going, or anything else. Not to contact anyone here in Brockton Bay, either family or friends. Not to use their credit cards until they managed to change their address with the postal service and started to receive their mail at their new address. Not to worry about selling their home or having their possessions shipped to their new address for at least six months.

It was to give the ABB time to forget about them. To chalk Seon up as the one that go away. With how busy the rank and file of the ABB was going to be trying to track down the villains that robbed them, it was unlikely they'd bother to follow up with the Li's even if they did none of those things.

Unfortunately, unlikely wasn't an absolute no, something which was all too desirable when the money you were on the run with was stolen from people who would do worse than kill you if they found out you had it.

Now Taylor needed to decide what she was going to do about the villains that she'd fought over the money with. She'd researched the name 'Tattletale' and it had led her to the Undersiders, a gang of teenage villains that had formed up sometime last year. They consisted of the aforementioned Tattletale, as well as Grue, Hellhound, and Regent.

There was little known about them, most of what was online being about Rachel Lindt, or Hellhound, as she was known to the PRT. She was fairly scary, and not just because she had the power to grow those crazy monsters from ordinary dogs and control them afterward. No, the main reason Taylor worried about Hellhound was because she'd already killed several people.

PHO had a lot of information about the dog-themed cape, and even some links to fansites devoted to her. Taylor thought that was a bit bizarre and disgusting to act this way about a villain, but to each her own. Still, there was more than enough information to make her believe that Rachel would do her best to carry through on the threats she'd made against her.

Grue had been some kind of low level enforcer here in Brockton Bay until he joined the Undersiders. Then he'd mostly dropped off the radar. There was almost nothing known about Tattletale or Regent, although Taylor now knew one thing for sure about the blonde Parahuman: she was no Brute. She'd gone down far too easily for her to have any kind of physical prowess. Grue had at least tried to fight, but he'd moved far too slowly to be effective. However, to his credit, he'd made at least one attempt to trip her even after she'd taken him down pretty brutally.

Taylor had absolutely no idea about Regent or his powers, barely even registering the figure in the poofy-sleeved shirt when she'd zapped the two dogs. As far as she knew, he hadn't done anything to her the night before.

Taylor had no particular plans for the money she'd kept, although she was considering using the bulk of it as a peace offering towards the Undersiders. After all, if she could avoid having mortal enemies when she was first starting out, that would be to her advantage.

Of course to do so would require her to contact them, something which Taylor wasn't exactly eager to do. With there being so many Parahuman abilities out there, she couldn't be entirely sure that one of their members, if given time to prepare, wouldn't be able to no sell her own strengths as if they didn't exist. And it wasn't just that.

Thinkers and Precogs, as well as other capes with mental powers, made it seemingly impossible for any cape to maintain a true secret identity. However, since heroes and villains weren't on the evening news every day alongside their secret identities, clearly something was happening. She'd have to think on it a bit more and figure out exactly how things worked.

In the meantime, she'd won a single battle in an endless war, saving a family from disaster. Now it was up to them to live their lives and be happy. Just as it was Taylor's responsibility to do the same thing.

Heading home, Taylor was looking forward to breakfast with her dad. Maybe she could get him to make her pancakes with funny shapes. But even if all breakfast consisted of was sugary cereal, she'd take it in order to spend time with him.

A grin on her lips and a feeling of lightness filling her being, Taylor set off at a run towards home.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor stared at the computer screen. She was perusing the PHO forums and had come across an entry from someone called allseeingeye. In it, the person professed to be looking for someone they had had a 'blast' with the night before. The person also mentioned thanks for the 'tuneup'.

She was pretty sure that the post was from that girl Tattletale, but couldn't be completely certain. Still, it was enough to make her wary.

Taylor knew that as a healer, she was in danger from gangs, from forcible recruitment to virtual enslavement. It was the same thing that Tinkers dealt with, but it was even worse for healers, who were far more rare. Most joined the PRT, but that wasn't something that Taylor wanted to do. All ideas of corruption aside, she refused to lose that much autonomy, allowing someone else to control her actions.

Focusing once more upon the post before her, the innocuous words there imprinted on her mind, Taylor decided not to do anything until she could use a public computer. After school, she would head downtown and stop at an internet cafe and pay to use one of their computers.

Fortunately, she had a little over a thousand dollars on her at the moment, so paying their fees wouldn't be an issue. It was lucky that she'd thought to bring some of the money with her, Taylor mused, her plans for going shopping looking like they'd temporarily have to be put on hold. Otherwise she would have been forced to go home first.

Taylor spent her free period in the library reading a more advanced book on computer programming than her regular textbook. She had plans to purchase a top of the line laptop and reprogram it with an unbreakable encryption scheme, either of her own invention or something that was available to the public so long as it was good enough to stymie the majority of people who might try to break it.

Of course, in a world that included Thinkers and Precogs, there probably wasn't anything truly unbreakable out there, but so long as she kept her profile low so as to not attract their attention, whatever she found should do the trick.

Afterward, in Mr Gladly's World Affairs class, they were again broken up into discussion groups. For the first time in forever, Taylor ended up in a group that didn't include Greg or Sparky. It did include a two of Emma's old gang, but other than a couple of dirty looks, they left her alone, mostly talking among themselves while she worked with other two group members, Wendy and Jeff.

Today's topic was the CUI and how the nation of China had changed over the past thirty years. They were supposed to put their own spin on it, weighing in on whether the changes were good or bad. Listening to the others in her group talk, Taylor was amazed at the level of naivete shown.

Most of them seemed to think that the CUI was as good, or better than what it had replaced. However, Taylor wasn't drinking the cool aid. When Wendy finished talking, her opinion agreeing with the others, she weighed in.

"I disagree. All of you seem to think that just because the CUI controls their capes, it must be a good thing."

Julia, one of Emma's hangers one, said, "Well, Taylor, at least they don't have groups like the Slaughterhouse Nine or even Empire 88 running around."

Taylor calmly nodded, as if what the vapid girl had said was somehow insightful. "You're right, Julia, they don't. Instead, they control their capes, making them part of the power structure so that it becomes that much less likely that anyone in the CUI will ever know true liberty. Franklin said it best, 'Those who give up liberty for a little temporary security, deserve neither liberty nor security.'"

Surprisingly, the majority of the group nodded along at Taylor's words, although she wasn't sure if that was because they truly agreed with her, or if they were just too weak to go against someone who possessed a strong opinion or a forceful personality.

That begged the question of when had her own personality become something which anyone, even she, herself, would describe as strong or forceful? Taylor was still thinking about that when Mr Gladly called for someone in their to make the report. A second later, Julia smirked and said Taylor would be giving theirs.

Getting to her feet and girding her metaphysical loins, Taylor prepared herself to do battle. Over the next five minutes, she spoke with a fervor that she'd never felt or used before. Around her, the people in her class were looking stunned, as if unable to comprehend how anyone could feel that strongly about something so esoteric that didn't even affect them.

When she was done, Taylor stared out at her audience, surprised when first one person, then another, began clapping until finally, the entire class was applauding her. Julia looking utterly gobsmacked, as if she'd been hit over the head with something hard, was even clapping desultorily. Quickly heading back to her seat, she decided that this was the weirdest thing she'd run into since gaining her powers. What the hell was going on?

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Even though the rest of the school day passed quickly, it still wasn't fast enough for Taylor. Her little speech in World Affairs had been all too successful, earning her group an A plus from Mr Gladly, while at the same time, making her classmates regard her her with more than a little shock and surprise.

Truthfully, she wasn't sure what to think about everyone's reactions. Taylor had spoken from the heart, using what she saw as a clear truth to inject conviction into her voice. Apparently, there had been a little too much conviction, as people not in her class had come up to her throughout the rest of the day to argue the points she'd raised. How the hell any of them even knew what she'd said was a bit of a mystery, but she figured they must have talked with people in her class.

Of course, several of those same people in her World Affairs class had also spoken with her, mentioning just how impressive her speech had been and how much they agreed with what she'd said. It was a little bizarre, perhaps even frightening, how easy people's opinions could be swayed. It also made Taylor wonder if she could have done something herself to deal with Emma and her cronies at a much earlier point, so that the bullying would never have escalated to the point it had.

She would revisit that possibility later, but for now, she had a potential villain to confront.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Lisa sat in front of her laptop perusing PHO when she received a private message. Opening it, she almost chortled with glee as she read it.

 _Tattletale,_

 _Did you want something in particular or to just bask in how totally awesome I am?_

 _Avatar_

That was interesting, Lisa decided. She'd never heard of an 'Avatar' in Brockton Bay despite how much time she spent researching other capes and potential opponents. She didn't need her power to tell her that the other Parahuman was a recent trigger. Even without her memory of the other's crappy costume, she would have known from how cocky they were being.

Then Lisa used her power, and her grin grew as she was surprised by the information it provided.

 _Cocky tone false. Wants to be underestimated. Very intelligent. Considering tactics in how to deal with us._

Lisa quickly typed.

 _Avatar,_

 _Or maybe I should call you thief instead since you stole something that doesn't belong to you. I want you to return the money you stole. If you do, we'll call it even._

 _Tattletale_

The reply came surprising quickly making Lisa almost wonder if the other had some form of Thinker ability herself.

 _Tattletale,_

 _I can't return the money as I've already spent it. Any other requests?_

 _Avatar_

Lisa cursed when her power confirmed that the other girl wasn't lying. On the other hand, neither was she telling the whole truth. She didn't quite have sufficient information to know exactly how much money Avatar had left, but she'd figure it out within a few more replies.

For now, Lisa wanted to know how the girl would respond to being threatened.

 _Avatar,_

 _If that's true, then you have nothing left to bargain with. Also, using an internet cafe where anyone can just walk up to you isn't very smart._

 _Tattletale_

The reply was up within seconds.

 _Tattletale,_

 _It isn't? I figured my electric personality would keep any stalkers away._

 _Avatar_

So she met a threat with a threat. Remembering the way Avatar had fried Rachel's dogs, Lisa decided to try something else.

 _Thief,_

 _I know you still have part of the money. Give it up. It's a small price to pay not to have enemies._

 _Tattletale_

Lisa waited for the other girl's reply with anticipation, both because of the money and because she was having fun. She didn't have long to wait.

 _Tattletale,_

 _Done. I'll give each of you four $5k to get you out of my hair._

 _Avatar_

Lisa applied her power again to the amount that the other had. A moment later, she laughed as she typed.

 _Avatar,_

 _I don't think so. Try $25k apiece._

 _Tattletale_

Even if that was a bit much, it should be close to how much Avatar had left. Plus, better to go big at first to make later sums seem more reasonable.

 _Tattletale,_

 _Even if I had that much left, peace of mind isn't that valuable to me._

 _Avatar_

Lisa pondered Avatar's words. She decided to up the ante.

 _Avatar,_

 _You know, as a healer, you should be more generous. After all, everyone likes healers._

 _Tattletale_

The reply was again swift. Reading it, Lisa winced a bit, realizing that she must have pushed a bit too hard.

 _Tattletale,_

 _Threaten me at your own peril. You don't want me as an enemy. $15k each is my final offer. Take it or leave it._

 _Avatar_

Using her power, Lisa read the deeper implications behind Avatar's words.

 _Dangerous. Will not compromise. Not a killer, but will do whatever is necessary for own security. Sees threats against herself as threats against loved ones._

Deciding that she agreed with what Avatar had written, Lisa typed out her reply.

 _Avatar,_

 _Agreed. Where do you want to meet to stop off money?_

 _Tattletale_

Waiting for the reply, Lisa hoped that she would agree to meeting now.

 _Tattletale,_

 _I'll be in touch._

 _Avatar_

Yeah, Lisa hadn't thought she'd fall for that, but the temptation to meet her opponent was hard to resist. For her at least. Avatar apparently had no such compunctions. Closing her laptop, she headed off to tell the others the good news.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor left as soon as she was done typing, careful to avoid any security cameras in the area. After all, with the threats that the other had made, it was better to be safe than sorry. Not that she really thought Tattletale was serious about any of the threats she'd made. Instead, they felt more like probes.

It almost made Taylor regret the naked threat she'd made in return. But she couldn't afford for there to be any ambiguities in her response. Plus, it had gotten the other girl to agree to the amount specified.

Deciding that since she was already here, she might as well do a little shopping. Taylor headed toward some of the better shops on the boardwalk, hoping for bargains on sale items. She'd recently outgrown most of jeans, and while she could take in their waistlines, the inseam was a bit more problematical. Currently her jeans were about two inches too short in the legs.

With a smile on her face, Taylor headed off.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

When she got done, Taylor threw together a quick dinner of mac-n-cheese, baked chicken quarters, and a garden salad. Canned lemonade to drink finished it off.

A few minutes after she finished, her dad came in through the front door, calling out, "I'm home! Something sure smells good."

Taylor walked up and gave him a hug. "Just some mac-n-cheese and chicken. You look like you're in a good mood."

Her dad looked a little abashed. Scratching his head, he said, "I had some good news today."

When he didn't expound upon his statement, Taylor asked, "Do I have to beat you like a pinata, or are you going to tell me?"

To emphasize her point, she smacked him lightly on the arm. Danny pointed a finger at her. "Now now, show your old man some respect. Anyhow, I went to the doctor yesterday and had a physical. I got the rest of the results back today. I'm in perfect health."

Her dad had gotten a physical? With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Taylor asked, "What made you decide to do that? Were you feeling bad?"

Danny shrugged. "Not really. More tired than anything. But that may just have been a bug because I feel great now. Plus Doc Evans said I was as healthy as a horse. There's absolutely nothing wrong with me, kiddo.*

Despite how relieved she was to learn that their family physician hadn't found anything, Taylor still punched her dad in the arm for not telling her he was going.

As Danny rubbed his arm, a bemused expression on his face, she admonished him, "Next time, don't wait to tell me you're going to the doctor."

"I promise."

There was an odd look on her dad's face. "What?"

"Have you been working out, Taylor? Cause that was a pretty good punch."

A moment later, they both burst out laughing.

Over dinner, they made small talk, although Taylor was careful to not mention her speech at school.

"You know, Doc Evans brought you up as well."

Glancing at her dad, Taylor shrugged. "Well, be sure to say hi to him for me the next time you see him."

"He mentioned that as a young woman, it would be a good idea to have you come in for a check up."

What was Dad saying- Oh Hell, no! There was no way she wanted a guy, even one as nice as their old family doctor, poking around down there.

Taylor opened, then closed her mouth. While she was trying to think of how to argue the point, Danny said, "Anyway, you have an appointment for a physical on Friday after school. I'll leave work early and take you."

"Dad, I'm not sure that's the best idea right now. I don't really need a physical. I feel fine."

Unfortunately, her protests fell upon deaf ears. "Plus, if you have any questions about sex, you can bring them up during your visit."

Taylor practically shrieked, "I can't talk to Dr Evans about sex!"

At that, Danny almost fell over laughing. Taylor gave him a narrow-eyed stare before finally asking, "What's so funny?"

"If you could see the look on your face..."

At Taylor's mutinous expression, her dad finally relented. "It turns out that Doc Evans has a new, young female doctor he's gone into partnership with. Your appointment is with her."

"That was mean."

"Taylor, did you really think I wouldn't get payback for that snow drive by on Sunday?"

Shaking her head at her dad's perfidy, Taylor stated, "A monster."

They bickered goodnaturedly back and forth for a while, then cleaned and put the food away. They spent most of the rest of the evening watching The Princess Bride.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

That night, Taylor headed out at four am and left a duffel full of cash for the Undersiders hidden in a building close to the Trainyard. She'd leave Tattletale a message as soon as school was over and let her know where it was. Of course, the joke was kind of on them.

Taylor had left them all of the small bills, mostly fives and tens. So the sixty thousand dollars was made up of eight thousand or so small bills. She'd also jumbled them up once she was sure of the amount. She grinned as she imagined the looks on their faces when they found a huge mass of random, loose bills in the duffel and had to count and organize them to make sure she hadn't shorted them.

Feeling amused, Taylor headed home at a jog, ready to face another day.

~~~~AtotD~~~~


	6. Chapter Six: Life Lessons at the Corner

**Chapter Six: Life Lessons at the Corner Store**

 **AN:** Okay, another chapter of this story is now out. Thanks to all of those who reviewed or provided feedback. I promise an update of my other stories before I update this again. Truth be told, those chapters are rapidly approaching completion so you should see a posting before the weekend. I hope.

~~~~AtotD~~~~

Lisa walked into the loft and shut the door behind her. Tossing the duffel bag she was carrying onto the floor, she called out, "I've got the money!"

Predictably, Alec was the first to stir. He ambled over and knelt down next to the bag. Opening it, he briefly pawed through its contents. After a moment, he looked up and demanded, "What is this shit?"

Brian looked up from where he was updating his journal, real concern on his face. "Something wrong with the money?"

Lisa shook her head. "No, it's just our thief thought it would be funny to give us all of the fives and tens she stole rather than any of the larger bills. So we've got us a duffel bag full of them."

Alec looked sulky. "You know how many fives I'll have to carry around to be the equivalent of a wad of hundreds? It'll ruin the cut of my jeans."

Rolling her eyes, Lisa was actually glad that Rachel took a moment to weigh in, "I don't care. Money's money. It spends either way. I'm going out to buy dog food. I'll take my share when I get back."

With that, the girl got up and headed out. Lisa knew she would be going to one of the big box stores with the automatic scanners to make her purchases so she wouldn't need to go through a check out line where she might be recognized. It was part and parcel of being a wanted Parahuman with a publicly known identity.

Brian finally finished up what he was writing and walked over. He offered, "I'll help you count it if you want."

Lisa shrugged. "Sure."

They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Brian asked, "By the way, have you told the boss about our run in with Avatar?"

Lisa shook her head. She wasn't particularly eager to have that conversation, especially since it far too likely with his fucked up power he'd already know something about their run in with the other cape. Maybe even that she was a healer. Plus her own feelings were rather confused. She still didn't know if she was grateful to the other for healing her after she'd been the one to injure her or angry at her for hurting her in the first place. It was interesting because she wasn't usually this wishy washy where her own feelings were concerned.

Brian looked contemplative. "Good. Don't. If he mentions it, be honest. But don't volunteer anything. We don't need him to have doubts about our competence at this stage in the game. Too many things lie in the balance."

Clearly, Brian was worried about his sister's situation, but Lisa wisely chose not to bring that up. Instead, she said, "I won't say anything." In an effort to reassure the other boy, she diffidently asked, "You do know that it wasn't because of any lack of planning or competence on our part that things went so south for us, right?"

The tall, African-American boy's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we didn't get our ass handed to us because we screwed up or sucked in the first place. I wouldn't bring this up if Rachel were still here as she's still pretty hot about the whole thing. But we did good against a cape that was as much of a power house as almost anyone in Brockton Bay."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Lisa, can you just get to the point? Those of us without your power are not following your logic."

"Yep. What he said."

Deciding to be as blunt and honest as possible, Lisa asked, "Do either of you know what an avatar is?"

Of course it was Alec who answered first. "Video game character. I've got one right here." He waved the video game controller in a desultory fashion.

Lisa nodded. "For the most part, that's the newer, more current definition. But it's not the classic one. In classical terms, an avatar was the incarnation of a god in an earthly form."

Alec blew a raspberry, while Brian's pursed lips gave away his own opinion. Lisa rolled her eyes. "I'm not suggesting that the girl we fought is actually the personification of a god. However, the fact that she chose that as her name, and then went to all of the trouble to provide demonstrations of her power that fit along those lines despite how shitty her costume was, make me wonder what _she_ believes."

Brian whistled silently. "You seriously think that this Avatar thinks she's some kind of manifestation of a god? Cause we don't need that shit. Dealing with another nutjob."

"Not really, no. But she may be powerful enough to want to put the idea of it out there."

"Look, Lisa, I get that she was tough. Brute and fast to boot, and that lightning thing sucked. But what you're suggesting is frankly ridiculous."

Because you don't know she can heal as well, Lisa thought. "Maybe. But did it ever occur to you that we might have only see the tip of the iceberg as far as her powers are concerned?"

Their conversation engaged Alec's attention once again and he paused his video game, leaning forward slightly. "What do you mean?"

Lisa moved so that her eyes met those of both of her teammates. "I mean, every time we engaged Avatar, she pulled another power out of her bag of tricks."

Alec frowned. "But she ran away."

"Sure she did. Her first instinct was to flee. Maybe she didn't want to be confrontational. Or maybe it was because it was her first night out as a cape. We should just be glad that her first instinct wasn't to deal with us far more permanently. Because she had me and Brian cold upstairs. It would have been easy enough for her to kill us both. Plus, she could have then gone downstairs instead of up and zapped all three of Rachel's dogs, leaving the two of you alone and afoot, easy pickings for those ABB gang bangers."

Brian looked thoughtful. "But she didn't. Instead, she left."

"Exactly. She even gave us part of the money she had left. The greater part, by the way. But she didn't do it because she was scared of us or what we would do to her. I got that from my power."

Alec looked more than a little sour as he glanced from her face to the stacks of small bills surrounding her. "Then why did she give us part of the money?"

Lisa shrugged. "A sense of caution. She doesn't see any reason to make enemies if she doesn't have to. Plus she believes in fair play. She didn't think it was fair of her to keep more of the money than she actually needed. I suspect that when she buys whatever else she needs, she'll donate the rest to charity."

Interest fading, Alec muttered, "She should donate it to us." He turned back to his video game.

Brian, on the other hand, looked even more thoughtful. After a moment, he said, "Let's come up with a policy in dealing with Avatar. One like what we have for Lung. If we run into her when carrying out an operation, we call it off and split."

A vulpine grin stealing over her features, Lisa said, "Oh fearless leader, that is probably the smartest thing you've said yet."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The next day after school, Taylor used her newfound carpentry skills to start setting up an obstacle course down one side of her lair. She was able to scrounge lumber from within buildings all around the one she was working in, everything from scraps of two by fours and pieces of plywood, to shipping pallets and crates. Assembled, they made a hodgepodge of surfaces to run, jump, and slide over.

Of course, the first time she ran the partially finished course, Taylor was extremely glad she had at least some Brute durability as the sheer amount of splinters that she encountered would have been a literal pain in the ass otherwise. As it was, some of them still scraped her skin, although she was able to heal anything she needed to.

One odd thing that she felt was that it seemed as if she was just a bit lighter on her feet than she'd been when fleeing the Undersiders. It might have just been her imagination, though, as she'd only had her powers for a very short time.

That night, Taylor sneaked out again, 'borrowing' the weights and weight bench that she'd found in the basement. She wanted to see if she could improve upon her strength, which while good, was not nearly enough to take on even one of the weaker Brutes in the city's gangs. Lung or the Nazi girl giants would hand her her ass if she tried to stand against them.

While Taylor didn't think she'd ever be strong enough to stand toe to toe with any of them, if she could just take a blow from one of them and keep going, that might be enough. Towards that end, she'd gone out earlier that day and bought another pair of forty-five pound plates.

She knew from her reading that the weight set she had was something called an 'Olympic Weight Set.' What that meant that the ends were thicker than the middle of the bar, which was sized for human-sized fingers. The larger bar ends made it easier to change the plates than a normal sized bar. Taylor now had four forty-five pound plates, as well as two thirty-five pound, two twenty-five pound, four ten pound, and four five pound ones.

The book on weight training she'd read gave her the basic movements and exercises, but it didn't take long to figure out that the amount of weights she had simply wasn't enough for her to actually push herself. She could do all of the movements just fine, but most of them didn't strain her muscles. Worse, the weight bench she'd taken from her basement wasn't quite sturdy enough to hold a fully loaded the bar. Instead, it shook far too much, something which would only get worse as she added weight to the bar.

Even the bar, itself, wasn't sturdy enough to hold much more weight than what she already had. So her needs included more weights, a better bench and weight holding system, and a sturdier bar. The first and last were easier enough, she could just buy a couple of plates at a time and eventually a heavier bar, until she had enough for what she needed, hopefully without drawing any undue attention.

The second needed skills that she didn't currently have, but should be able to easily obtain, as well as supplies that weren't quite as easy to obtain. She'd have to think about what exactly what she needed to build her weight bench so that it didn't collapse out from under her, then figure out a way to get those items.

It was going to require some planning, something she had plenty of time to do as she was still only sleeping perhaps four hours a night. For some reason, her body and mind just didn't need more rest than that anymore.

Of course, making plans would be even easier if people would quit distracting her at school trying to argue the points she'd raised in Mr Gladly's class. Case in point, the two girls in front of her.

Both of the senior girls facing her wore frowns while the taller of the two, a girl named Mary Anne, spoke almost patronizingly, "Look, I get that you think you're right about this. But you're not. The government needs to control capes. Otherwise you get situations like what's happening over in Africa."

Taylor shook her head. "No. If you truly believe that it's lack of government control that has caused that madness in Africa, I don't know what to tell you. Because if you actually examine the history of the countries there, you'll find that the injection of capes has had almost no effect upon their politics."

The other girl, who Taylor thought was named Tara something or the other, chimed in, "That's crazy. Parahumans changed things completely there. Now it's almost totally warlords running things."

She countered with, "And they weren't before? Look at the situation over there as regards the power structure and how it's changed in the last hundred years. You went from a predominantly tribal structure worshiping local deities to nation-states with mixed tribes and religions. Then you add the easy availability of modern weapons to the mix. Violence was already happening all over the continent well before Parahumans emerged as a force there. They've been slaughtering each other under the direction of one strong man or another ever since. Parahumans are just the latest group of strong men in charge."

Before either girl could bring up yet another point, Taylor said, "Look, the points I raised in class have everything to do with the rights of the individual versus the rights of the state. That's what I was arguing more than anything else. I refuse to believe that any country has a right to turn people into assets rather than individuals, no matter what reason they give. Any nation that does so has abandoned its moral authority to govern its people. It's no longer acting in their citizens' best interests, but in its own instead."

Mary Anne said, "You've raised some good points. Thank you, Taylor."

Just like that, the two girls headed off. Staring open-mouthed at their backs, Taylor didn't know what to think. Usually, she had to argue a lot longer and more vehemently before she could get away. Then she caught a whisper from Mary Anne to Tara, "I told you she would be perfect for the Debate Team. I'm going to hit her up on joining this Monday."

Not caring how the other girl would respond to that, Taylor pulled her senses back. The Debate Team? Seriously? Then she grew thoughtful, giving the idea serious consideration. Something like that might be a good thing to have on a high school transcript if she wanted to get into a good college. Of course, if she was going to get into any college, money was going to be the biggest sticking point. Right now, the Heberts weren't up to sending anyone to college any time soon.

Fortunately, the rest of the day passed, and Taylor was able to hit the library again. She hummed as she read a half dozen books on different types of welding and welding equipment, as well as cutting metal using a torch. She made mental notes on the equipment she'd need, as well as the materials. Additionally, from a phone book, she saw the perfect place to get everything she needed.

She also read books on sleight of hand, gymnastics, juggling, archery, knife throwing, and body armor. The first few, she hoped to be able to use continue to push her physical abilities. The more dexterity she had, the better. Taylor figured it would also help her get through her home-made obstacle course a bit better.

The knife throwing and archery, on the other hand, would give her a distance element. She would need to be careful, though, to try to keep her attacks nonlethal. However, she was confident that she would be able to become skilled enough with both knives and a bow to put her attacks exactly where she wanted.

Reading the book on body armor, on the other hand, was probably the single most disheartening thing Taylor encountered since gaining her powers. The information contained within made it clear that any thoughts she had of armoring her costume was pretty much the stuff of pipe dreams. There was pretty much no way that she could carry around metal plates that would stand up to modern gunfire, let alone the attacks of Parahumans.

No, Taylor discovered that what she actually needed was modern body armor, of which there were several different varieties available to the public. That was the thing that actually surprised her. You could just go into a store and buy body armor. In her case, Dave's Army-Navy Surplus carried several different brands of body armor, as well as armor for legs, and even helmets.

They weren't cheap, but neither were they several thousand dollars apiece. Taylor did some quick math, and learned that she could outfit herself with a vest and backpiece, as well as leggings and a helmet, for about three thousand dollars. Not cheap, but it wouldn't break the bank either.

Unfortunately, the two sticking points were that you had to actually be eighteen to buy body armor, as well as being required to show identification. Taylor was only fifteen and the last thing she wanted was to have her name out there on some public registry as owning body armor. So buying it was out. Maybe.

Taylor had an idea, but wasn't sure it would work. She needed another book, and after reading that one, she read yet another. Then she checked out one more to read at home. If this worked, she would be able to get everything she needed. If not, it might turn out to be a disaster. Only time would tell.

Once she was home, Taylor made dinner. After eating with her dad, she begged off watching television for doing homework in her room, something which he clearly approved of from his fond smile. Then she headed upstairs to meditate and focus upon her senses.

Three times a day, first thing in the morning, for a few minutes at lunch, and again in the evening, Taylor spent time honing her senses until she could feel the merest brush of air moving upon her skin and know what had caused it. Until her ears, skin, and nostrils could define the space and movements around her without any benefit of her eyes.

She was pretty sure that she could already fight without using her eyes at all, something which would come in handy if she ever ran into the Undersiders again. Grue's darkness, which cut off her vision, as well as slightly muffling her other senses, was a game changer for her and she needed to be able to counter it. Plus, she was certain there were other Parahumans who had abilities that likely worked in a similar vein to block the senses and disorient their opponents.

Taylor wanted to be ready to deal with them all.

Once done meditating, she made her first sketches of her new costume. She'd had a picture of it in her mind's eye, but hadn't committed it to paper. Doing so now, Taylor was entranced by the way the fabric draped and flowed. It would allow her to move freely, while at the same time, protecting her identity. It would also give her a presence that her ordinary clothes did not.

It would be easy enough to actually make the costume she was envisioning, although she would need far more supplies than she currently had. She would also need very high quality material as well, something which she knew she could purchase locally, although again, there was the problem of running into some helpful clerk while out in costume who recognized her costume's material and remembered the girl she'd waited upon.

It wasn't as if she could buy the material at some relatively anonymous place like S-Mart, either. The material she needed was way too upscale to find there. So she would need to get it from the first place she'd thought of.

More even than that, Taylor needed a host of other items, which while not exactly illegal to own, would be difficult to buy in a way that didn't scream, 'Cape here, buying stuff for her secret hide out.' No, she would need to figure out a way to get her hands on what she needed without shopping for it herself. However, she thought that she had come up with a way that would work just fine.

Friday night, she would be going out again. Not to save a person from criminals this time, but to become one.

In the meantime, Taylor would scout the places she was planning to get her supplies from, checking out the alarm systems and looking for egress and exit points.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

All too soon, Friday arrived and it was time for Taylor to go out and get the things she needed to further her cape career.

First though, she had to go to her doctor's appointment. Ugh.

Danny were there waiting for Taylor as soon as school let out. As she climbed into his car, he asked, "How was school today?"

"It was okay. Nothing special."

"No making any friends?"

There was a faint look of worry on her dad's face, but it wasn't something that Taylor could easily assuage. "Not yet. I think things will improve soon. There were a couple of girls who wanted me to join the debate team. So we'll see how it goes."

Brightening, Danny said, "Well that's good. I think you'd be good at debate."

Dryly, Taylor said, "You know, what you're really saying is that I'm good at arguing."

"Exactly. It's clearly something you got from me."

Arriving at the doctor's office, Taylor had to wait a while to for her physical. She glanced around the waiting, seeing the usual mix of moms and kids as well as single people. Watching as one mom doted on her daughter, who couldn't have been more than five, it made a lump rise in her throat.

Danny, with an unusual amount of empathy, seemed to know what she was thinking as he asked, "Missing your mom, kiddo?"

"A little. I mean, I'm usually fine, but seeing the two of them just made me think about it. It's not so raw anymore, but I'll never forget her."

Her dad slid an arm her shoulders and gave her a half hug. She rested her head on his shoulder, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. At least she still had her dad. If something happened to him, Taylor wasn't sure what she would do.

After that, it didn't take long for Taylor to see her doctor. The nurse put her in a waiting room and had her change into a hospital gown, the kind that only had ties in the back. Oh joy. Regardless of what might be expected of her, she didn't take of her panties in case a male came in while she was almost naked.

The nurse also took her temperature and blood pressure, as well as weighing her and checking her height. Taylor was surprised to find out that she was nearly five nine according to the nurse, and weighed in at a hundred and twenty-five pounds. She wasn't sure that was a good weight for that height, although her exercise was paying off and her stomach was mostly gone, only a little pudge remaining.

One thing that surprised her was that the nurse took a blood sample, but it had been a long time since Taylor had a physical so she thought it must be for tests.

A few minutes later, the doctor came in, a woman probably a little younger than her dad, with a warm smile and shoulder length blonde hair. "Hell, Taylor, I'm Doctor Sheffield."

Surprised at the woman's accent, Taylor blurted out, "You're English?"

The woman nodded. "I am, or rather, I was. When I got married, I moved to the States and finished my studies here. Now I'm a US citizen."

"I guess that's nice?"

The woman nodded firmly. "Of course it is. Now, I see that you're here for a physical. Your blood pressure and pulse are good. I see from your chart that you run?"

Taylor nodded. "Yes. Not for a long time, but I've been running for a few weeks."

Dr Sheffield smiled as she took her stethoscope and briefly warmed it against her hand. Placing it on Taylor's chest, she said, "That's a good habit to take up. Exercise is almost always a good thing. By the way, your weight and height are fine for your age, although I'd like to see you put on a few more pounds by the time you're twenty. That should come naturally as your body matures. Cough, please."

Taylor coughed, then did it again before she had a chance to ask, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can. That's what I'm here for."

"You mention my body maturing. Is that going to be something that happens any time soon?" Taylor fidgeted as spoke, feeling embarrassed asking even another woman _that_ question.

There wasn't a speck of amusement on the other woman's face as she asked, "Worried about your bosom, I take it?"

"Maybe," Taylor hedged.

"Taylor, you're just fine as far as the size of your chest for your age. You may or may not get a lot bigger, but I can pretty much promise you that you will have bigger breasts than you currently have by the time you're twenty.."

"It's just that a lot of the other girls in my grade are already wearing B and C cup bras."

"Everyone develops at their own pace. Be patient and don't obsess with your body image. Stay fit. You're already on a good path by taking up running. Did you have any other questions?"

Taylor really didn't, juts glad that she had an expert's assurance that some day she would get boobs, even if that day wasn't today. She sat and listened as the doctor discussed breast cancer with her, feeling only slightly embarrassed as she showed her how to check for lumps.

Then came the much dreaded pelvic exam, but it, too, was soon over, as was the sexual activity discussion, and Taylor was able to get dressed. Dr Sheffield was writing up some notes on her chart, but paused when she asked, "The nurse earlier drew my blood. Was that for a test?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, we're going to test for a few things, diabetes and the like, but its unlikely that you'll have anything to worry about. Based on everything I've seen so far, you're very healthy, Taylor. So go ahead and enjoy your weekend. I'll have the test results sent to your dad when they come in. Okay?"

"Uh, sure."

Taylor headed back to the waiting room and her dad. He had the insurance already taken care of so they were able to just head out.

As they walked towards the car, he casually asked, "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Healthy as a horse as I think you put it earlier. They drew some blood for tests, but Dr Sheffield thinks I have nothing to worry about."

"Good. Sorry, but it's a dad's job to worry." Danny reached over and pulled her into a hug.

Taylor hugged him back, then said, "It's cool. I understand. I worry about you, too." Stepping back, she suggested, "Let's go home."

"You got it, Taylor."

Later that evening, Taylor went over her plans again. Her dad was deeply asleep in his room, his even breathing telling her more than anything else how unlikely it was that he would awaken before morning. While he slumbered, she needed to visit four places on her shopping list to get all of the things required for her costume and hide out.

First, she would need to go to Sorrel's Welding Supplies, a business that sold welding equipment and acetylene bottles, as well as bar steel that she could use to build her weight bench and other things. From there, she would hit Alexander's Materials and Supplies, followed by Sports Authority. Lastly, she would visit Dave's Army-Navy Surplus to look for body armor, hopefully finding stuff in her size that she could wear under her costume.

Taylor quietly opened her bedroom window and slipped through the opening. Balancing herself lightly on the sill, she closed the window, then dropped easily to the ground below, landing almost soundlessly even to her ears.

Moving fast and staying in the shadows, she headed toward her first destination. To keep her identity secret, Taylor was wearing the same clothes she'd worn to rob the casino five days ago, deciding they'd do until she could get her official costume made. The hoodie had the benefit of concealing her features almost completely, while the old jeans were utterly anonymous. No one would be able to see her face, even without the mask she wore. And the cheap gloves hid her hands and kept her fingerprints off of things.

Around her, the city was alive with a million sights, sounds, and scents. It was a fascinating vista that pulled relentlessly at her consciousness, as every single individual piece of input vied for her attention. That same input allowed Taylor to create a picture of the world around her, who and what was moving around in the shadows of her surroundings.

A dog stirred in the back yard of the next yard over, perhaps having caught some vestige of her scent. In a house around the corner, a man stood smoking on his front porch, a television playing the latest episode of _Criminal Minds_ in the background behind him. A car slid stealthily through the neighborhood a few streets over, likely full of youthful criminals, as the reek of marijuana reached her sensitive nostrils while the baying of demented laughter lightly touched her ears.

All too soon, Taylor reached her first destination, the welding supply store. From her previous study of the building, she'd noticed the lack of the telltale signs of an advanced alarm system. If she was careful, she should be able to get in and out without tripping anything.

What she had discovered during her reading was that alarm systems in Brockton Bay fell into one of three types. First, there were the simplest alarms that consisted of sensors on the doors and windows, that tripped a siren when the circuit was interrupted ie the door opened with the alarm activated. These were the most common.

Second, were alarms that combined door and window sensors with motion detectors. These existed, but weren't all that common as far too many Parahuman abilities could bypass even this form of alarm.

Lastly, were high end alarm systems that combined not just door and window sensors and motion detectors, but laser light grids and pressure sensors to detect teleporters and Strangers. There were other types of sensors that could be added as well, but that covered most of what such an alarm system entailed.

Fortunately for Taylor, most of the alarms in Brockton Bay fell into the first category. So long as the company in question didn't sell anything that would likely interest a Parahuman, they only did the bare minimum as far as an alarm system was concerned, just enough to keep out addicts looking for something to hock to buy their next fix.

They were far more apt to spend money on razor wire and bars, than any kind of special alarm.

The day before, Taylor had spent a few minutes scouting three of her four targets, looking for ways in, as well as any weaknesses. Which brought her to her current target, Sorrel's Welding Supplies.

The building was a simple two story structure, the doors and first floor windows protected by iron bars, while the yard out back was surrounded by an eight foot fence topped with razor wire. Bright lights lit up the area, but Taylor already knew they didn't have security cameras, and the area was a deserted one at night.

Briefly eyeing the one barless window set high on one wall, likely leading into a second story room, Taylor took off in a burst of speed. Running rapidly, her feet a blur, she reached the wall beneath it in seconds, then seemed to almost run up the wall, her boots maintaining traction for the length of time required for her to reach her target. She wasn't sure yet where the limits of this type of Parkour move lay as regards its maximum height, but it would more than suffice for this wall.

Reaching out for the window as she arrived, she caught herself on the ledge there. Taylor used both hands to pull herself up, then hung on with just one while she used her other to try the window. Locked.

Taylor didn't let that deter her. A moment's inspection showed that the window lacked signs of being wired as part of the alarm system. So she began working on getting inside. She pushed stiffened fingers against lower sash, digging them in under the wood. Twisting that arm around, she pushed up against the lock, her other arm braced against the window sill. Something had to give, which ended up being the lock with a _ping_ of stressed metal. From there, it was but a second's work to push the window open, then slide her slim form through.

She was in a bathroom. Opening the door, she walked out into a short corridor with doors that probably led to various offices. At the end of the hallway, a staircase led down into the store proper.

Taylor made her selections swiftly. Welding and cutting torches, a striker, gloves, and a variety of other items, including two full tanks of acetylene and oxygen and a decent quantity of bar steel. Once done, she totaled up the amount of her items, added another twenty-five percent, and left that much money along with a tally of what she'd taken on the counter. She might be a thief, but she was a paying one.

The smaller items she placed in the duffel she'd brought, filling it to capacity, while the tanks she picked up and carried upstairs over one shoulder. She lowered them one at a time to the concrete beneath the window through which she'd entered, until both were standing upright there. Then she picked up her duffel with one hand, while the tanks and bar steel she used a rope harness looped over her shoulders to carry, and took off for her headquarters.

The tanks were both heavy and awkward, wanting to swing in very different directions with every step, but Taylor managed to keep them relatively balanced. Actually, by the time she got home, they were almost eerily still, a point of pride to her. She also never had to stop even once, carrying them the entire distance. Still, her breath was coming a bit more rapidly when she finally arrived at the building she was beginning to consider her own. She got them inside as quickly as possible, using rope to raise them to the roof then lower them inside. Once done, it was time to go after the next items on her list.

On the way to Alexander's Materials and Supplies, Taylor caught a glimpse of a parked car where one shouldn't be. It was accompanied by excited whispers and the telltale reek of marijuana. So the druggies she'd detected earlier were nearby. Deciding a brief detour was in order, she headed in the direction from which the sounds emanated.

Arriving at a local convenience store, one she immediately recognized, having found refuge there before, she noted the figures trying to jimmy the back door with a pry bar. They didn't seem to be having much luck doing so, she decided, feeling relieved. Taylor continued to watch as they fumbled at the the back door for a few more minutes.

She was just considering leaving them alone, but was reluctant to do so in case they were more successful in the near future. Involuntarily, her memories filled with images of bright blue eyes under bushy brows that were always filled with humor and affection. Of course, even as her thoughts turned to dwell on her past, there was a snapping sound and the door flew open, accompanied by the sound of an alarm going off.

The figures raced inside and Taylor _moved_. She wasn't going to let the store owner, who once upon a time had been very kind to a woebegone girl who had just lost her mother, get robbed by a bunch of druggies when she could stop them. While she, herself, might be a thief, at least she was an honest one who paid for what she took. These others were likely only seeking alcohol, or money to buy more drugs.

Not all together idiots, they'd left one of their number outside as a look out. Not that it mattered as Taylor easily ambushed him, leaping out from the dark to take him down. She ruthlessly choked off his cry, then hammered her fist into his solar plexus, driving the air out of his lungs. A moment later, she had him unconscious from a carefully used stranglehold she'd gotten from one of her books.

Moving past his limp body, Taylor headed towards the door. She could hear the ones inside moving, even over the sound of the alarm. Unfortunately, it sounded like they were making a mess as much as anything else as crashing noises echoed around her. Deciding she needed to deal with them as quickly as possible, she ran inside.

It didn't take long to find the first one. The boy, dressed not that dissimilarly to herself in jeans and a hoodie, reeked, clearly not having bathed in days. He was absently tossing random breakable items off the shelves he passed as he walked down the aisles. Taylor was surprised how angry the pools of red, green, and other, uglier colors spreading out over the formerly pristine white tile floor made her. Why the hell did the asshole need to do this? Why couldn't he just take what he needed and leave?

Deciding he needed to pay, Taylor approached him soundlessly, despite the broken glass mixed with random food stuffs, and rabbit-punched him once in the base of the skull. As he collapsed bonelessly into the mess on the floor, she hesitated a moment, the stomped on the boy's arm, the sharp snap of a bone breaking clearly audible to her ears. That one was injury she wouldn't be healing, Taylor decided in satisfaction.

Having dealt with the vandal, she turned towards the sounds of the other two thieves. Moving in their direction, she turned the corner to find both of them headed her way, burdened with several cases of Schlitz Malt Liquor Beer.

The one in the lead spotted that she wasn't one of them despite the low lighting and shouted, ″Who the fuck are you-″

Taylor didn't allow him time to finish speaking as she side-kicked him in the chest hard enough to send him flying into the figure behind him. Both men went down in a tangle, cursing and shouting as they struggled to get back up, cans of beer rolling around their feet from the burst cases they'd dropped.

She was on the first before he could even get to his feet, wading in and beating him unconscious with a series of precise strikes. The second slipped as he tried to get up, a can rolling out from underfoot. He would have likely smashed his skull on the edge of a metal shelf if Taylor hadn't caught him. The look of relief upon his face was almost comical, as was the look of horror when she struck him with careful force directly beneath the breast bone, driving the air from him in a whoosh. Taylor had learned since the casino and knew better how much force to place behind her blows to take someone down without seriously injuring them. The little shit she was holding didn't really fight back after that and she had him out in seconds.

Once she finished, Taylor went motionless and listened. Even over the store's blaring alarm, she could hear the sound of sirens approaching. She headed out at a sprint, pausing only long enough to make sure none of her victims would awaken soon enough to escape.

She watched from the roof a building across the street as a police car came screaming up to the convenience store, two figures spilling out from it. They raced around to the back and soon were joined by another two cars and four officers.

Taylor didn't stay to watch the arrests. She'd stopped them and that was enough. She had far too many errands to run herself and couldn't loiter. Turning, she headed towards Alexander's.

Another local shop, the store was renowned for carrying a wide variety of different types of materials for those who still sewed, whether from enjoyment or necessity. That was made clear by the disparity in the costs of the material within, some available for as little as three dollars a yard, while others ran twenty or more times that much. Taylor had priced several different things yesterday that she thought would make a great costume while also scouting the exterior and alarm system.

She'd found out, that like Sorrel's, the store didn't carry a high end security system. Instead, the system was simple and only designed to keep ordinary criminals, mostly consisting of druggies, out. The owners didn't need a system that would keep Parahumans out, knowing that they had nothing in their inventory that would attract that kind of attention.

It was almost certainly true, Taylor reflected as she once more made her way to the roof, this time using a drainpipe to climb the three stories. What self respecting Parahuman would rob a store that only carried bolts of material? No one except her, she decided in amusement. Or maybe Parian.

Now she just had to get inside and for that, she needed an entrance. The only one she'd seen the day before was through a small window that looked down from the third floor onto the alley in back. To complicate things, the only way to access that window was by dropping off the roof and catching herself by her fingertips as she fell past it. Making her way to the roof, Taylor glanced over the edge at the window that lay just a bit out of reach.

As entrances went, it was only mildly dangerous. Even if she missed, the worst thing that would happen would be her falling to the alley below and having to roll to bleed off some of her momentum. It was unlikely she'd be injured by such a short fall even if she just landed in a crouch.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor balanced out over the thirty-five foot drop with just the tips of her toes resting on the concrete parapet. Glancing down and to the side, she made sure once more she knew exactly where the window was, then hopped the tiniest bit up and back, dropping vertically off the side of the building.

Taylor only fell about eight feet before her fingers caught the window ledge. There was a jerk that briefly strained her fingers, but she was able to hold on. Even better, this window was unlocked, no one likely believing it would be an valid way inside for a thief. Pushing up on the window sash, she opened it, then threw a leg across the sill and into the room beyond.

Carefully moving through the shadowy room, Taylor made her way down two sets of stairs until she arrived at the shop's main area. There she set out to find the bolts of material she'd already picked out. Once she located the half dozen she wanted by the sheen of the material visible even in the dimness within, she carried them over to the register area.

Over the next few minutes, Taylor gathered up needles, thread, and a myriad of other sewing supplies to take with her. Once she had everything she wanted, she tallied up the total, added twenty-five percent on top of that, and left the cash behind, all twenty-eight hundred dollars of it. The material she'd taken was expensive, but worth every penny.

Taylor had grabbed enough material and supplies to make at least four outfits, and quite likely a fifth one, along with all of the accessories required. From her reading, she was aware that during cape fights, costumes were all too often damaged and sometimes even completely destroyed. It didn't make sense to make just one, only to have it get burned or torn during a fight, forcing her to somehow fix it before going out again. Or to look like an idiot who couldn't think ahead as she ran around in a ragged costume.

She carried all of her loot back to her base, then headed out once again, duffel bag in hand. She'd originally planned to hit Sport's Authority next, followed by the Army-Navy Surplus store, but had changed her mind. She wanted to get the advanced alarm system of Dave's behind her so that she could finish with the simple one that the sporting goods store possessed.

Whether she should even brave the alarm system and break into the store was the biggest question Taylor had. Because of the cameras they had covering not only their entrances, but the rest of the store, she had decided not to go inside during her scouting mission the day before. Instead, she'd only walked past it once.

About the only good thing that Taylor discovered about Dave's was that at least she should be able to get inside. They had not wasted a ton of money on heavy steel doors and the like, as such defenses wouldn't stop anyone with significant Brute abilities. It was likely they saw no reason to risk their store getting torn apart trying to keep such individuals out. Instead, they depended upon the response time of the Brockton Bay Police Department and their own security company, something which wasn't all that bad as regards the former, at least based upon what she'd seen at the convenience store earlier.

It was likely the security service might react even faster as they were an exclusive and expensive one. Plus there might be other measures inside beyond just the sensors and alarms themselves. It couldn't be anything lethal or they could be sued, but there was nothing to stop them from using sonics, lights, and even nausea inducing gas.

Since she hadn't gone inside the store, she had to do a walk past the gate-covered windows to see where things were situated before thinking about going in. Fortunately, she could see quite well even in the darkness within, and was able to make out a counter that was on one side of their showroom whose surface sported a display of body armor. The shelves above and behind the counter seemed to hold more examples of body armor, while the space beneath the display remained a mystery as to its contents. Whether they would have anything in her size was the biggest question, but she knew from her perusal of PHO, that some of the posters there were female BPD officers who had supposedly purchased vests at Dave's.

Taylor reversed course, heading back towards the front door and stopping in front of it. Then she reached for the metal gate's locking mechanism and prepared herself to move rapidly. As soon as she broke it, all hell would break loose.

It took all of her considerable strength to snap the steel of the gate's lock, and force it open. Then she had to do the same thing to the front door's lock. Even as Taylor began moving inside, a siren so loud it sent a spike of pain through her temples went off. It was accompanied by a brilliantly flashing strobe light that pulsed with an almost hypnotic frequency, indicating to all and sundry that someone was breaking and entering.

Taylor shook of the effects of the light and sound, although she could no longer hear anything outside, likely one of the siren's intentions, and hurried back towards her target. A few seconds later, a burst of gas erupted from somewhere ahead of her, which made her eyes water furiously and forced her to hold her breath. Just like that, the owners of Dave's had managed to partially incapacitate two of her senses. She hesitated just a moment, half blind and not sure she wanted to continue in the face of this onslaught.

Deciding that she really needed the armor, Taylor moved forward.

Within seconds, she was in front of the body armor display, holding her breath to try to minimize the effects of the tear gas. Operating more from memory than anything else, she leaped the counter and landed behind it. By touch, she began checking the contents of the shelves behind it. As hoped, they contained a variety of different vests in different sizes. Running sensitive fingers over the various vests, Taylor quickly came to a decision, grabbing two vests whose differently tags likely indicated that they were different brands, although they seemed about the same size. She quickly stuffed them into her bag.

Then she set out to see if she could find any other armor as her heart rate slowly increased through the lack of oxygen. Having read a little about the subject, she knew that there were sets that looked almost like pants with trauma plates that protected your thighs, knees, and shins. There were even back plates and extra trauma plates to add to a vest to make it even tougher. In seconds, she had checked the shelves, then headed down to the interior of the cabinet.

Over the next couple of minutes, Taylor's nimble fingers danced over the area's contents as she first located, then grabbed a wide variety of items, doing a lightning fast tally in her head. Since she couldn't see the prices of the items she was taking, she just had to guess at a total. Then she added fifty percent to that to cover the front door and the general bother.

Dropping the cash on the counter, she grabbed her stuffed duffel bag and made a quick exit even as sirens seemed to amp up just a little more. Once outside, she took a huge, gasping breath, followed by another, then another still. Now she could finally hear the sound of sirens approaching that indicated the police were on their way. Eyes half blinded with tears, she took off at a full speed sprint, leaving the area as fast as she possibly could. Behind her, the police sirens began to fade slightly, and she knew she had gotten away.

What a rush, Taylor thought, unable to help the grin that creased her mouth despite her streaming eyes and pounding pulse. Who would have thought even Dave's would have tear gas on tap in the event of a break in? She was just glad it hadn't been nausea inducing gas as that would have been a lot messier. The thought that they could have had both made her shudder slightly, reducing her grin substantially. Then she dismissed the idea. She'd succeeded beyond her wildest dreams and there was no need to dwell on might have beens.

She was fairly sure that she had grabbed everything she needed to armor herself from her legs on up, although it remained to be seen if she had the right sizes. To a certain degree, she'd depended as much on luck as skill to grab the right pieces and was curious what all sizes she'd taken.

She'd figure it out tomorrow, Taylor decided. She still had the trip to Sport's Authority to make, and while she could probably buy most of the items she wanted there legally, the throwing knives and compound bow very likely had age limits on them as well. It was better if she just took them and left the money and a tally behind.

Taylor did do a complete check of all of the body armor she'd taken before taking it back to her lair to make sure that there weren't any tracking devices. Not that she was really worried about it. The kind of clientèle that purchased body armor wouldn't tolerate being tracked so it was unlikely she'd find anything. She did find several of the magnetic tags that stores used to discourage shoplifting and removed those, tossing them into a dumpster. After that, she stopped by her lair before setting out for her final stop.

Thankfully, Sport's Authority wasn't into advanced alarm systems either, just having simple sensors on the doors and windows. From the roof, Taylor was able to find a way inside through the AC ductwork of all things, which meant she got pretty dirty, but nothing worse. Of course, once she got everything together, she might need a different way out. Then again, maybe she would be able to get them through the same ducts she'd entered through. They weren't _that_ narrow.

With a sigh of relief that this was the last place she'd need to go tonight, she began shopping.

Making her way down one aisle, Taylor grabbed a dozen throwing knives checking each one briefly to make sure it was well balanced. She then grabbed a compound bow with a hundred pound pull along with a quiver and more than thirty arrows from another. A variety of boxes of tips followed, ranging from razor sharp hunting tips to trick blunted tips that could likely knock someone out.

Taylor also grabbed a seriously sturdy Olympic size weight bar along with a multitude of weights. It was enough weights that she would likely need two trips to carry them all home.

Noticing some far better gloves than what she was currently wearing, Taylor added several of those to her cart, as well as three pairs of black, SWAT-style, steel-toed boots in her size. She also grabbed twenty sets of Under Armor tops, sports bras, and leggings to go under her costume as well as to work out in.

Once done, Taylor again totaled up her purchases and added twenty-five percent, since she hadn't had to break anything getting in through the roof. Then she began moving everything outside.

She was right about both of the things from earlier. She was able to get the items through the AC ducts, although she got a lot dirtier lugging things than going solo. It was also going to to take take two trips to get it all back to her lair. The first trip was pretty uneventful, although she did have to use her senses to avoid a prowling police cruiser on the way. Before the second trip even started, however, she ran into capes. Wards, to be exact.

Taylor heard something, the faintest fluttering sound in the air, and cocked her head to listen. She didn't know exactly what it was or where it was coming from, but it made her wary. Listening carefully, she just about had it pinpointed, when it abruptly intensified and she felt the tiny impacts of air currents from something that was rapidly approaching her from behind. All she had time for was to lean to one side, which turned out to be just enough, as a black clad figure sailed through the space she had just occupied, landing in the alley in front of her and scattering some of the trash there.

The figure cartwheeled back to her feet with a sense of offended dignity and spun around to face Taylor. With a sneer that could be both seen and heard, Shadow Stalker asked, ″Where do you think you're going, perp?″

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Sophia frowned as she sat through yet another counseling session. She was doing two per day currently. But it was the price she had to pay for getting busted. Besides, the sooner she got done with the mandatory counseling, the sooner they would let her back out in the field.

Once she was done, Sophia made sure to get her form signed so that she could take it back to Armsmaster. It was likely that he would just send her on to Miss Militia, but she preferred to bring it to him first, to show she was a team player who understood the chain of command.

Heading towards Armsmaster's lab, she ran into Carlos. He looked harried as he said, ″Sophia. Just the person I was looking for.″

Shit. It was likely he was going to dump yet another crap assignment on her. She was already having to do monitor duty pretty much every night. Supposedly, if she completed her counseling sessions, she'd get to go out and patrol with Armsmaster, Miss Militia, or Velocity. It was a dangling carrot, Sophia knew, but she still wanted it badly. Staying inside every night was driving her crazy. It was growing increasingly hard to pretend to be reformed when she had to be around her teammates every day without the occasional outlet of busting heads to let off steam.

At least most of them were out sick right right now, she thought in satisfaction. Team player, she repeated internally as she asked aloud, ″What did you need, Carlos?″

″Suit up. You're going on patrol with me.″

Holy fuck! It took every last bit of self control she had to keep the excitement out of her voice as she said, ″Have you cleared this with Armsmaster? I'm confined to base right now.″

Carlos looked momentarily disgusted, although she didn't know whether it was at the very idea of her confinement or any information he'd been given about what why she was confined. If she had to guess, it was the latter, since he was such a sanctimonious little shit. Still, who cared if she got to patrol? ″It's cleared. Right now, you and I are the only Wards who aren't down with the flu. It doesn't affect me, and I guess you're just lucky.″

Fighting a smile that would look out of place because of the subject involved, Sophia asked, ″What about monitor duty?″

″Missy has it. She's sick, but she says she can just bundle up with a cup of hot tea and tough it out.″

Truthfully, she was surprised that the munchkin would stand down that much. She usually insisted upon going out no matter how she felt. The girl must be sicker than a dog, Sophia thought cheerfully. Good. It meant she could finally get out. Better yet, it was with someone who could keep up with her. As smug as Carlos could be about following the rules, he could, at least, fly. So he wasn't as much of a drag to take along as he would have been otherwise.

Getting dressed in her costume felt almost surreal. Sophia couldn't believe it had been less than two weeks since she'd been benched. Fastening the last buckle and picking up her crossbows to check them, she felt complete for the first time since the night before they'd pranked Hebert.

Hebert. That little bitch was going to pay. It couldn't be any time soon, but eventually Sophia would make sure that Hebert got she was due for what she'd done to her. She still didn't know how someone so weak could have turned the tables on her and Emma, but she had.

Of course thinking about the situation and her desire for revenge upon Hebert brought the other person involved to the forefront of her thoughts. Emma Barnes.

Sophia had pretty much lost contact with the other girl with her phone confiscated and her confinement to base except for school. But she was fairly sure that the other girl had already cut her loose, pressure from her family likely forcing her into the action. Certainly her dad, Alan, had been furious that his 'perfect' daughter had been hauled down to the police station because of a prank, never mind that Emma had done most of the planning while she had only executed it.

That the situation was not that dissimilar to the way that Emma had turned on Hebert a year and a half ago wasn't lost on Sophia. Maybe the girl wasn't as strong as she'd always believed. Or maybe she was the weak one and Emma had recognized it and cut her loose. Either way, it filled her with a sense of loss that surprised her with its intensity.

It was just one of the reasons that Sophia needed to deal with Hebert. She suspected that if she handed Emma the weakling's head on a platter, she would take her back, dad or no dad. After all, that and being strong had been the two main foundations of their friendship. She just needed to remind Emma of that. Once she did, they'd be friends again and hang out once more. They'd figure the rest of it out afterward, the family issues, the confinement to base, and everything else.

Heading into the main area, she announced, ″I'm ready.″

Carlos, currently suited up as Aegis in his rust red and silver costume with the silver shield emblem on his chest, nodded to her. Sophia followed him out, musing that black was another color that didn't show blood at least as well as the red he wore. Then again, Chambers would never approve another Ward on the team wearing a mostly black costume. It sent the wrong message, my ass, she thought, a feeling of contempt filling her at the thought of the fussy man with his ridiculous ideas.

They headed to the roof toward the roof, which made Sophia's heart soar. That likely meant it was going to be a far ranging patrol, and not just a quick 'show the flag' tour of Downtown. Diffidently, she asked, ″So what's our route?″

Aegis said, ″We're heading north. We'll patrol all the way from the Boardwalk to over east to Forty-fifth Street, then back south again. We just need to make sure to stay well south of that mess at the ABB casino that got knocked off. Standard patrol procedures are in effect.″

Sophia nodded. She'd been right. They were going on a long ranging patrol. East to the ocean, then north, the back west to Forty-fifth, then south back towards downtown was a significant patrol. Especially for Wards.

Of course, standard patrol procedures meant they weren't to engage any Parahumans unless attacked, or to protect the lives of innocents, instead calling in Protectorate forces while acting as back up. Which sucked ass. Still, every drug dealer for the various gangs whose territory they were patrolling was fair game. And since their patrol impinged slightly on several of those territories, there would be prey available. Sophia nearly shivered at the knowledge that she'd be able to take them down.

Two hours later, she was feeling a lot less satisfaction. So far, the patrol had been a complete bust. They'd checked on one alarm, only to find the miscreants already in the hands of the Brockton Bay PD. She and Aegis had stopped for a moment to make sure the police officers didn't need any help, only to discover that the thieves that had broken into the convenience store had already been unconscious when they'd shown up.

It meant there was probably someone else out there taking down perps. Most likely, that someone was a vigilante, like Sophia had once been. It made her guts clench to realize that she'd been tamed by the PRT, turned into yet another of their trained dancing monkeys.

It also made her that much more determined to find someone, _anyone_ , committing a crime, no matter what she had to do in order to accomplish this task.

Their next major chance was a local Army-Navy store that had a break in. Again, they were too late, although the perpetrator had gotten away with his loot. Sophia watched, bored, as Carlos talked to the BPD officers who were on site. Supposedly, there was something odd about the break in, but from looking things over, it seemed pretty cut and dried to her.

After that, Sophia began ranging ahead of Aegis, pushing herself further forward while he continued his leisurely side to side flight path. It was something she'd done often in the past, but hadn't yet dared to tonight, not wanting to push things. But it was in character for her to become impatient with the lack of action and press ahead. After all, she wasn't deliberately ditching her partner, something she couldn't do if she wanted, as Aegis was far faster in a straight line than she was. No, instead, she was merely responding to something she'd spotted, wanting to check it out before she brought it to the attention of her partner.

Ten minutes into it, Sophia saw something. She had a straight shot down an alley perhaps five blocks away and could see a figure busy picking stuff up behind a sporting goods store. Moving as quietly as possible, since she wanted to surprise the thief in the act, she headed towards them.

From over a block away, she launched herself into the air in her shadow state, gliding towards where the figure was lifting a rope harness filled with metal plates onto his shoulders. Goddammit, she thought in annoyed astonishment, that had to be at least three hundred pounds worth of weights. There was no way someone as skinny as that person could lift that much weight without being a Parahuman, likely a Brute.

So Sophia was supposed to call it in. She was already pushing it by not contacting her partner, but she could cover that by saying she'd been too close when she'd spotted the person to speak, else she would give away her position. Maybe, she could do the same as far as the weights were concerned, saying that she hadn't seen what they were carrying before she confronted them and _they_ attacked _her._

After all, she thought in contempt, the person she was rapidly approaching didn't look like much of a cape. Their costume, if you could even call it that, consisted of jeans and a hoodie, with some kind of crappy mask. Otherwise, they only wore boots and gloves. She judged the person to be perhaps five eight or so, and maybe a hundred and twenty pounds. As skinny as they were, Sophia couldn't even tell if it was a male or a female she was about to take down, but she leaned towards male, if for no other reason than because the person didn't really have hips or boobs.

Sophia solidified her body just as she was about to strike the man in the middle of the back, her momentum carrying her forward. To her surprise, instead of the expected impact and a tumbling recovery, the figure leaned out of her way, effortlessly dodging her while she ended up being the only one to hit the alley's surface.

Fortunately, she was able to turn the roll through the alley's garbage strewn surface into a cartwheel. Spinning back to face her opponent, she announced, ″Where do you think you're going, perp?″

The figure in front of her remained silent, merely backing up slowly to open the space between the two of them, something which she wasn't going to allow. Moving forward, Sophia prepared herself for a fight.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Okay, this sucked, Taylor decided, as she stared at the menacing black-clad figure advancing toward her. She immediately recognized Shadow Stalker from the Wards' website and PHO. The Parahuman teen supposedly had the ability to turn immaterial and was armed with twin crossbows equipped with tranquilizers.

Unconsciously, she found herself moving back away from the dark themed cape, something which the other apparently didn't like as she immediately stopped, raised her crossbow, and fired a bolt at Taylor. Dodging it was a bit of a challenge while carrying over four hundred pounds of weights, but she was loath to surrender something she had already paid for, even if she'd done so by breaking and entering.

Encumbered as she was, Taylor wasn't able to dodge the next shot, but it bounced off one of the weights that were hanging off of her, attached by ropes that went over her shoulders. It made carrying the heavy weights manageable, more a matter of sheer strength, something she had in abundance.

Shadow Stalker apparently didn't like that from the way she cursed, ″Goddammit! Stand still so I can stick you with one of these, you little shit.″ There was something kind of fake about the way the girl was speaking, almost as if she was trying to disguise her voice.

It actually made sense as Taylor, herself, hadn't spoken at all yet as she wasn't sure she could do the same thing. Of course, at the moment, that was the least of her worries.

Taylor knew she couldn't outrun the other girl encumbered as she was, but neither did she want to fight her. She was just about drop the weights and run, when the girl turned into a mass of smoky shadows just as she fired another bolt. This one sped towards her, but would again impact a weight, something which Taylor was instinctively able to calculate, so she didn't bother to dodge. That turned out to be a serious mistake.

To her surprise, the bolt passed right through the weight and into Taylor, as if the metal were mere air. When it impacted her, it solidified, and immediately began pumping drugs into her body. Feeling incredibly woozy, she took a staggering step backward.

She couldn't go down like this, Taylor thought, forcing herself to stay erect through an effort of will. Her dad would be heartbroken to discover his daughter was a thief. Not just that, but they'd discover the money she had and maybe tie it to the Ruby Dreams Casino. It would put both of their lives in danger from Lung and the ABB if the information go out. She had to... she needed to...

About to collapse, Taylor suddenly remembered her healing ability and triggered a burst into herself. Immediately, the haze around her thoughts cleared up and she was suddenly as full of energy as if she'd just chugged a couple of Red Bulls. Rapidly shrugging off the ropes around her shoulders, she allowed the weights to drop to the alley's surface with a series of ringing sounds.

There was a more genuine note to Shadow Stalker's voice as she mused, ″So, you're immune to my tranqs, huh? Or some kind of regenerator? Well, that just means I get to do this the old fashioned way.″

Taylor was just registering how oddly familiar the other's voice was, when Shadow Stalker leaped forward in a spinning attack.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Sophia saved her breath for moving as she suppressed a curse. Fuck! The girl in front of her, and she'd finally figured out the slim figure was female after seeing her move a few times, seemed virtually impossible to hit. She'd failed to land a single blow on the other, despite more than a dozen attempts. Of course the other cape was also unable to hit her, as she went in and out of her shadow form as needed.

Sophia made another spinning attack, temporarily going shadow to increase her speed, then becoming solid just before she made contact. Only she once again missed as the girl effortlessly dodged her blows. Then she spotted her patrol partner over the other cape's shoulder. Aegis was diving straight at her opponent and she almost shouted a warning at him that this bitch was hers. Instead, she internally chanted her mantra of 'team player', as she fired another tranq bolt to distract her opponent.

Of course both Aegis and her bolt missed as the other cape seemed to just sway aside, following the graceful move with a hammering blow to her teammate's ribs that sent him tumbling end over end right at her. Sophia moved in and out of her shadow state as he slid right through her, the sensation sending a shiver through her. She didn't like moving through living things, the feeling almost as bad as coming into contact with something electrical, just without the pain and debilitation.

Aegis got to his feet quickly, demanding, ″What's going on, Shadow Stalker? Why didn't you call me before engaging?″

″I caught her stealing stuff from this store. I didn't realize she was a cape until I confronted her and didn't have time between defending myself to call you.″ There, she thought, that should do it. Even if the other girl later tried to contradict her, it shouldn't matter. Who'd believe a scumbag of a thief anyway?

Aegis floated up to just above and ahead of her as he addressed the criminal in front of them, ″Surrender and we'll go easy on you. There might even be a place for you in the Wards if this is your first time getting into trouble. If you keep fighting, it'll go worse for you. A lot worse.″

Even though the other girl didn't speak, Sophia got a sudden feeling of seething fury, something in her body language giving it away. Oddly enough, that anger didn't seem aimed at Aegis, but rather at _her._ Trying to put the girl even further off balance, she spoke in a low, taunting tone, ″You're just going to lose if you try to fight us. Give it up, _loser._ ″

Sophia ignored the chiding look Aegis sent her way, a feeling of triumph filling her as the other girl suddenly charged her. She flowed into shadow to avoid the attack, planning to drive the two tranq bolts she was carrying in her hands into the girl's body as she went past.

But instead of missing her, the other girl somehow hit her with a crushing blow that felt like it broke ribs. Sophia immediately became material, barely able to suppress a scream as she slammed shoulder-first and upside down into the wall behind her, dropping her bolts. She landed head first onto the concrete a second later, the impact momentarily stunning her and blurring her vision. She watched wide-eyed as the skinny girl who'd just hit her lunged forward, one hand slightly extended as if gripping something. The only thing that saved Sophia from a finishing blow was Aegis attacking her from above.

Unfortunately, he was dealt with as summarily as Sophia herself had been, although she didn't see the blow. All she heard was the hard, meaty sound of a vicious impact, then he blew right through the wall to her left. She struggled to her feet, attempting to bring her crossbows to bear on the figure in front of her. Then the girl was lunging forward and she was struck a hard blow to the head, despite entering her shadow state just before the other girl arrived.

As Sophia fell to the ground in a daze, she suddenly realized that she hadn't even seen the weapon that had struck her, only feeling its hard impact. She blinked her eyes rapidly as she struggled to stay conscious and do _something_. Unfortunately, all she could do from her prone position was watch as the girl picked up her rope harness and took off at a fast sprint despite the amount of weight she was carrying.

Groaning in pain as her neck and back, among other areas, protested her movements, Sophia brought her communicator to her lips. She forced a false crispness into her voice as she said, ″Console, this is Shadow Stalker. Aegis and I encountered an unknown Parahuman who attacked us. Send back up and an ambulance.″

Vista's voice was all business as she said, ″Understood, Shadow Stalker. I'm notifying the PRT and sending Protectorate assets and paramedics your way. They should be there in... ten and fifteen minutes respectively. Can you hold out that long?″

Sophia bit back another groan, refusing to sound weak to the youngest Ward. The little brat would just _love_ that. ″Yes. The Parahuman has fled. I'm about to go check on Aegis. She put him through a wall. One of us will be back on in a minute with an update.″

Turning off her communicator, Sophia staggered to her feet, grimacing at the pain she was feeling, nearly as much emanating now from her ribs as her back and neck. She eyed the hole, but didn't feel like trying to climb even that high to get through. Instead, after checking the wall for electrical lines, she phased through it, and limped forward. She found Carlos more than thirty feet in, pulling himself off of a steel shelving support that had apparently impaled him. He made a low grunting sound of mixed pain and impatience as it came out of his back followed by a bright spurt of arterial blood that rapidly tapered off, then stopped completely. A moment later, he noticed Sophia.

Aegis' voice was hoarse as he asked, ″Are you injured? Did she get away?″

Shrugging, which did nothing good for her ribs, Sophia said, ″Cracked ribs at least, and yeah, the crazy bitch did.″

Floating up into the air just a bit, likely to take pressure off his injuries, Aegis said, ″You didn't need to push her like that. I might have gotten her to stand down.″

Glad her mask hid her eyes, Sophia rolled them at her erstwhile leader. ″Seriously? That's complete bullshit. I made exactly one little remark and she went postal. So pardon me if I disagree with you, oh fearless leader.″

Aegis didn't speak for a second, seemingly mulling over her words. Finally, he said, ″I take it that you called it in.″

″Yeah, the munchkin's sending us troops plus whichever of the big boys that are out on patrol tonight.″

Aegis nodded. ″That'll be Assault and Battery.″

"Yeah, I guess. I don't have the patrol roster memorized. I figured I had plenty of time to look it up tonight while sitting at the console."

"Understood. What were they stealing? Did you get a look at it?"

Sophia carefully nodded, not wanting to tempt fate by moving her head too fast. The last thing she needed was to blow chunks. "Yeah, there at the end. She was carrying a butt load of weights. Like a few hundred pounds worth."

Aegis's jaw almost dropped, then he gained control of himself. "So we just got into a fight that put us both out of commission over a set of cast iron weights? Why the _hell_ would anyone even steal those?"

Sophia started to nod again, then felt darkness and a strange fuzziness creeping up on her. Weird. Even her speech was slurred as she said, "Iz donz't knowz..."

Why the hell was the ground moving aorund like that, she thought in alarm? Why the hell... the darkness, which she had been keeping at bay through an effort of will suddenly swept over her and she knew nothing more.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

In her lair, Taylor paced furiously back and forth, the depth of her own anger actually frightening her. She wanted to kill someone. She wanted to-

Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck! Taylor sent her staff through a series of blurring movements that would have torn the other girl apart if she were here with her. Then she stopped, almost panting in her distress.

Okay, the truth was, she wanted to kill Sophia Hess so badly she could literally taste it. Rage and hate churned her insides until it felt like she was full of some poisonous froth that would erupt at any moment, destroying everything around her.

How the hell could she not have known? _How?_ Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker. That was now clear. Taylor had never even suspected that the most physical of her bullies was a Parahuman and a Ward.

No wonder she'd gotten away with it as long as she had. It hadn't just been Alan Barnes' influence that had kept her from receiving justice despite how many of instances of bullying she'd documented. Instead, it had likely been a combination of both things that had made the faculty turn a blind eye towards her situation.

The worst part was that Taylor knew how unlikely it was even now that Sophia was actually being punished. After all, she was still going out on patrols as a Ward No, it was far more likely that she had simply been transferred, possibly even to Arcadia High, something which was more of a reward than a punishment in her own opinion.

Taylor spun Umrahnuha in a vicious circle in front of her until it hummed through the air, ready to be unleashed upon whatever target her rage chose. She would-

She stopped, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising like hackles, as she realized that she was holding her staff in her hands. The same staff that she had left in her room tonight because she considered it too long and bulky to carry with her when she was having to act the burglar. How the hell had it gotten from there to here without her even realizing?

Okay, she hadn't had the staff inside of Sporting Authority, or earlier at any of the places she'd been to. That much she was sure of. She hadn't had it during her first trip either. She'd made an entire journey back to her lair carrying her bow, knives, shoes, and as much of the weights she'd taken as possible. There hadn't been a place for it to sit as she'd been loaded down.

Taylor was also pretty sure she hadn't had the staff when she'd first been jumped by Sophia. No, thinking about it, she was absolutely certain she hadn't had the staff. It hadn't shown up... until she had figured out why the girl in front of her was so familiar. Who she really was.

During the earlier part of their fight, before her partner jumped in, Taylor's sensitive nostrils had detected familiar scents coming from the other girl, even over the odors arising from the alleyway around them. At that moment, she had sensed a haunting familiarity from the other girl and not just because of her scent. A few seconds later, Sophia's name had popped into her head, accompanied by a surge of anger. But she hadn't been sure. Not until later.

Her certainty, which had been steadily growing the entire time that Shadow Stalker was talking with Aegis, didn't completely crystallize until the other girl taunted her with that final remark. The other girl had spoken in that same dismissive tone that was so completely familiar, and she had _known_. The realization had brought with it such a rush of rage that she hadn't been able to help herself. She'd launched into a savage attack, even if one that would likely prove futile as she could no more hit her than the other girl could hit Taylor.

Except it hadn't been futile. Because just before she was about to hit the shadowy form of her opponent, Taylor's hands had filled with her staff and she'd knocked the other girl ass over teakettle. Then she'd hit Aegis even harder, knowing that as a Brute, he could take it.

It had taken all of her self-control to stop herself from taking two more steps forward and driving the silvery end of Umrahnuha right into that bitch's forehead and killing her. The depth of her anger then, and the breadth it possessed even now, frightened Taylor immensely.

She was not a murderer. Even during all of those times the other girls had tormented her, even when they had taken her mother's flute, she had never even resorted to violence. Something had changed within her and she had the sneaking suspicion that she was holding that something in her hands. Regardless, there was no way she'd become a killer.

There was a feeling of indifference from the staff in Taylor's hands, as if it didn't care one way or another what she believed.

No, instead of killing the other girl, Taylor had merely hit her hard enough despite her being in her shadow state to take her down, a feeling of satisfaction filling her as she showed her that she wasn't so tough after all. Then she'd grabbed her harnessful of weights, and taken off.

Taylor was infinitely glad she had earlier decided that the Wards were not for her. She wasn't sure exactly what she would have done if she ran into the girl at a meet and greet, but realized that it likely wouldn't have gone much, if any, differently.

Clearly, her anger at Sophia Hess was something she needed to work on. Taylor wanted to be a good person, not just someone who gave the idea lip service. Feeling this much hatred and anger towards another wasn't something that a good person would do. Taking a deep breath, followed by another, she slowly tamped down on the anger she felt until it truly began to fade.

After a moment, Taylor dropped into a meditative pose on the ground, her legs crossed with each foot upon the opposite calf. She sent her senses out into the world around her, taking in all of the scents and sounds of her lair, before branching out and touching everything for blocks upon blocks around her.

The action seemed to do the trick for her. There was a moment Taylor could only describe as clarity, followed by the strangest feeling. For a split second, she seemed to feel just the slightest pressure from the world around her, a sensation that seemed filled with warmth and light. It was as if something greater was calling to her.

Then, almost as if she had merely imagined it, the feeling was gone. In vain, Taylor strove for several minutes to attain that deeper understanding, but ultimately failed. Her earlier anger gone, she was intrigued enough by the feeling to want to try again tomorrow to find that feeling of warmth and light.

The staff in her hands seemed to hum in contentment, its own thoughts shrouded in mystery.

It was only later when she was lying in bed about to go to sleep that Taylor realized that she'd hit Shadow Stalker with Umrahnuha when the other girl was in her shadow state. Her staff had somehow bypassed the girl's defensive ability, something which she didn't think anything could do. She made a mental note to investigate it more tomorrow, then turned over and went to sleep.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor was up at her usual time on Saturday, and after a short meditation period, got dressed to go on a run. She took off at a pace that wouldn't look too out of place on someone of her apparent fitness level and settled into the familiar sensation of rhythmic movement..

Last night had unsettled her. First, there had been the fight with the two capes, Shadow Stalker and Aegis. It wasn't just the anger she'd felt that bothered her. Instead, it was thinking about how she'd managed to take down two experienced capes once again, despite her own inexperience. Plus, somehow her staff had been able to hit Shadow Stalker despite the girl being in her shadow state.

It didn't make sense to her that things could go this easily. It made her more than a little uneasy as she waited for the other shoe to drop. While Taylor didn't really believe in fate or karma, it did seem as if there was a limit to how many good things happened to a person before something equally bad happened. It-

She skidded to a stop as she suddenly realized where her route had taken her. In front of her was Stephen's Corner Store, the same convenience store whose burglary she had spoiled last night. Walking over to the front door, Taylor noted that the 'Closed' sign was still visible despite the lights inside being on and someone moving around. She tentatively tried the door, equally worried and relieved when it opened.

Entering, she was accompanied by a jingle of bells. From somewhere ahead of her, Taylor heard a voice call out, "We are closed for business until later. Please see yourself out."

From some deep recess in her mind where she'd buried it, Taylor dredged his name. "Mr Dumphy? Are you here?"

"Who is it?"

A familiar looking older man emerged from the shelves, mop in hand, and surveyed her. Frowning thoughtfully at her from beneath bushy brows, he asked, "Little Taylor Hebert, is that you?"

Taylor smiled at the man, suddenly glad she'd stopped by. "It's me, Mr Dumphy, although I'm not so little these days." She briefly made an up, then down gesture towards herself before asking, "What's going on? Why aren't you open?"

Stephen Dumphy, who'd owned the store they were standing in since before Taylor was born, looked around in disgust. "Last night there was a break in. They didn't get anything, but they made quite the mess. I'm going to be cleaning up for the rest of the morning. Sorry, but I don't think I'll be open until at least noon."

Impulsively, Taylor offered, "I can help you clean up."

He waved her off, a look of sorrow in his eyes. "No, no, I can do it. You go on and enjoy your day."

Meeting Mr Dumphy's blue eyes, which weren't nearly as bright as she remembered, Taylor forcefully demanded, "Let me help you, Mr Dumphy. After all, you helped me when I needed it. So let me return the favor. I insist."

There was a weight to his gaze, an awareness of their shared past, that touched her as he finally nodded. "Fine. Grab the other mop then. I could use some help."

Grabbing the mop he'd indicated, Taylor set to cleaning. The two of them worked in companionable silence, scrubbing and mopping, for over half an hour before Mr Dumphy finally asked, "How have you been, Taylor? It has been a while."

Unasked was why had she stopped coming by. During the spring and summer after her mom's death, Taylor had spent a lot of time in this store when she wasn't with Emma, often playing video games in the small room in the back. Mr Dumphy had given her the occasional soda and listened when she had needed to talk. Sometimes, he had just sat there in silence while she had been unable to talk.

On a few rare occasions, he had talked about himself. A failed marriage and a strained relationship with a daughter several years older than Taylor lay somewhere in his past. She sometimes got the impression that he was trying to make up for being a bad father earlier in his life by helping her. Other times, she thought he was just a nice man who was very lonely.

Straightening, Taylor surveyed the now clean section of floor in front of her as she considered his question. "I'm good, Mr Dumphy. Really good. It was hard for a long time, but recently things have improved rather dramatically." She hesitated, then said, "I'm sorry I haven't been by. High school started and things got complicated." Emma and Sophia complicated. After a moment, she admitted, "I shouldn't have stopped coming by. I'm sorry."

Mr Dumphy gave her a grave nod, his own gaze neutral. "There is no need to apologize. I understand how complicated life can be. How is your father, Danny?"

"He's good. Much better than back then." Taylor remembered the ghost that her dad had been after her mother died. How he had shut out every one around him, including her. And how the man standing next to her had occasionally stood in for her dad during some of those dark times. "I never thanked you for what you did back then. I had just lost my mom and felt like I'd fallen off a cliff. You were so nice to me whenever I came in. I remember we sometimes talked about your family as well."

Mr Dumphy cleared his throat a bit nervously. "Now, Taylor, none of that. You don't need to thank me. You were a good kid going through a hard time. It was the least I could do. I'm only sorry I couldn't do more."

"As for my family..." his voice trailed off as he spread his fingers in self-deprecation.

Taylor reached over and squeezed the man's shoulder. "You are a good man and really helped me. Thank you."

For the first time since she'd come in, those blue eyes filled with a remembered brightness. "You're very welcome. Although, now I need to thank you. With your help, the store is clean and I can open up. You are quite the hard worker, Taylor. Your father must be very proud of you. Make sure you say hello to him for me."

"Thanks, Mr Dumphy, I will." Taylor smiled back at him and after staying a few more minutes to help him stock the shelves whose contents had been part of the mess, headed out. Running at a faster pace so that she could get home in time to eat breakfast with her dad, she contemplated her good deed for the day.

Thinking about it, she decided it felt a lot better to help someone than it did to fight. Aiding Mr Dumphy in cleaning his store gave her a lot more satisfaction than kicking the asses of those scumbags the night before had. Briefly, an image of Shadow Stalker lying prone upon the ground half conscious filled her mind before Taylor banished it. No, helping people was the right thing to do. It was what she should focus her efforts upon.

She had a lot more gifts to offer the world than just beating up thugs. A feeling of warmth and light lightly touched Taylor at an unconscious level as she raced up the steps of her house, then made her way inside. It only increased at the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast that reached her sensitive nostrils. With a quick call of "I'm home, Dad!" she made her way upstairs.

Rushing into the shower, Taylor smiled thoughtfully. She had a lot to do today, from making a start on her costume to figuring out exactly what armor she'd gotten the night before. She needed to figure out what, if anything, to do with the information about Sophia's identity and how her staff could affect the other cape.

Thinking about Mr Dumphy, she needed let her dad know he said hello. Remembering his strained relationship with his own daughter, maybe she should mention she loved and needed her dad as well.

It was a softly humming Taylor who hurried downstairs to eat breakfast with her father.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

 **AN:** I'm including a timeline for those who like such things. It's also intended for those who think things are moving too slowly so that they understand not all that much time has gone by. So here it is:

 **Timeline**

2010/12/20 Taylor gains powers and tests them. Talks to her dad about bullying, then decorates the house for Christmas.

2010/12/21 Taylor goes for a run. In the Boat Graveyard, she tests her ability to call lightning. She and Danny go Christmas tree shopping

2010/12/24 Taylor and Danny reconnect with Kurt and Lacey, cookies

2010/12/26 Taylor discovers she can learn faster than normal, starts reading books for skills

2011/01/03 Taylor returns to school. Locker. Emma, Sophia expelled

2011/01/08 Taylor shovels Mr Khaled's walks, goes to library for books on martial arts, practices abilities in new building that serves as a kind of base. Dinner with Mr Khaled, baklava

2011/01/09 Danny and Taylor shovel the front walk, build snowman, snow fight; Taylor heals Danny, repercussions

2011/01/10 Taylor meets Seon at school, robs ABB casino, fights Undersiders

2011/01/11 Taylor watches the Li's leave town. Contacts Tattletale

2011/01/12 Taylor drops off the money for the Undersiders, starts her obstacle course, plans her costume and heists

2011/01/13 Taylor scouts the stores she plans to rob

2011/01/14 Taylor gets her physical, hits the stores, leaves money behind. She fights Aegis and Shadow Stalker

2011/01/15 Meets up with Mr Dumphy on morning run, stays to help clean up


	7. Chapter Seven: On the Wings of Angels

**Chapter Seven: On the Wings of Angels**

~~~~ATotD~~~~

"Dad?"

From where he sat eating his breakfast, Danny looked across the table towards his daughter. He cocked an interrogative eyebrow.

His daughter, who looked almost disgustingly healthy as she sat eating oatmeal of all things, fidgeted a moment, then asked, "Do you remember, Mr Dumphy?"

"Ah... who?" Of course Danny remembered the man who'd nearly replaced him in his daughter's heart before he'd had words with him. The memory filled him with a sense of both shame and accomplishment, the former emotion steadily replacing the latter the more time passed. At one point, however, he'd reveled in his win over a foe who'd nearly stolen his daughter from him.

"Mr Dumphy? He owns that convenience store a few blocks away, Stephen's Corner Store? Although I'm pretty sure that his first name isn't Stephen."

"I..." What to say? "I remember him, I think. What brings him up this morning, Taylor? I can't remember the last time you shopped there."

Taylor shrugged. "Nothing big. I was running past this his store this morning and stopped by. He was inside cleaning up after a break in last night. I helped him to finish cleaning up and restock."

"Sounds like you had quite an adventure then. I'm proud of you for helping him." There, that made him seem like a better person than he really was, Danny thought guiltily.

Taylor looked down, then finally met Danny's eyes. "He wanted me to tell you hello from him. But I guess what I wanted to really tell you was that he was a big help back after Mom died."

Danny reached a hand over and squeezed his daughter's. "Taylor, I am sorry that I wasn't a better father to you. That it's taken me so long to come out of this; to become the father that you deserve."

She smiled, a look that nearly melted his heart. "It's okay, Dad. You're doing great and we're working through everything from back then. I thought that you should know that Mr Dumphy's the one who told me to be patient with you. To give you time to come out of it. That just because you were grieving, it didn't mean that you loved me any less."

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Danny nodded. "He's right. I've always loved you, Taylor, even if I didn't do anything to show you." He hesitated a moment, then diffidently asked, "When did you have that conversation with him?"

Shrugging, his daughter said, "I dunno. It would've been a week or two before that time you picked me up from there. Remember that day it was raining and you didn't want me walking? You went inside to thank Mr Dumphy for looking after me, then we went home. It would've been... oh... a week before that."

Danny sat there, stunned. Because on the day that Taylor described, he hadn't gone inside to thank Michael Dumphy. Instead, he'd gone inside to confront the man. To accuse him of trying to steal his daughter's affection. Danny had even implied less than honorable intentions, something both men had known was a lie. In the end, though, the man had merely given him a crooked smile, and said he'd step back and for Danny to look after Taylor in his stead.

It was, perhaps, the second most shameful thing Danny Hebert had ever done in his entire life. The most shameful being that he hadn't carried through on his own part of their implied deal, continuing to deal with his daughter with a kind of benign neglect, something which had continued to happen until this past Christmas when his daughter had dragged him from his stupor kicking and screaming, at least metaphorically.

"Anyway, I was thinking that we should try to do more of our shopping there. I don't know why we ever stopped. Besides, that place you stop at for coffee all the time has got to be nearly twice as far away. What do you think?"

Fighting a catch in his throat, Danny smiled. "You know, you're really something, kiddo. I think that's a great idea. I'll stop by on the way to work on Monday to grab some coffee there. And to say hello. How's that sound?"

"Good."

Danny continued to eat mechanically, and after a short silence, asked, "So what are your plans for today?"

Taylor shrugged. "I dunno. I might take the bus down to the public library. I need to get online and I know you want to try to keep the phone line at home free. Besides, dial up is pretty slow."

"That's fine, just be careful. And-"

"Take your pepper spray with you," Taylor finished for him. Grinning, she got up and took her bowl to the kitchen sink, quickly and economically cleaning it. Walking back over to the table, she asked, "You done with that?"

Staring down at his empty place, which Danny didn't remember clearing, he nodded. "Yes, of course. Thanks for washing the dishes."

"No worries."

A half hour later found his daughter leaving the house dressed warmly for the weather. Danny hesitated a moment, then headed for his car. He needed to put in at least half a day's work. Those insurance forms wouldn't file themselves, after all.

Still, it wasn't the Union office that he pulled up in front of five minutes later. Staring at the large sign covering most of the front of the store, Danny hesitated. Then steeling himself, he got out of his car.

Walking through the door of the store a moment later, he listened to the jingle of the bell over the door. It sounded the same as it had nearly two years ago when last he'd heard it. Walking up to the counter, he met the calm blue eyes of the man who stood behind it.

"Michael."

"Danny."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor dropped through roof hatch to the floor in her hide out, heading over toward the large stack of items she'd 'bought' the night before. She took a moment to catalog everything, then stowed different items around the room. The tanks of acetylene and oxygen were stored along a wall where she'd already put together a work table using scavenged plywood and two by fours.

Further down, she stored the material for her costumes in plastic garbage bags so that it wouldn't get dirty. While the inside of the building was a lot cleaner than it had been when she'd first taken it over, it still wasn't pristine. It would need to be a lot cleaner before she'd feel comfortable enough to try to sew there.

Of course, that meant she'd need to actually sew her costumes at home once she'd cut it out here. In the meantime, she supposed she could use the worktable she'd made if she covered it with a plastic drop cloth. With a sigh, she set the plastic bags on the table. She'd pick up a few drop cloths later so that she could cut out her costumes.

Deciding to set them aside for now, Taylor walked over the bag containing the body armor she'd taken. She carried it back over to the table, setting it down there, and pulling out the various pieces.

Taylor looked over the various pieces of body armor. She had two vests, as well as two sets of pants. She also had six different inserts for the vests and pants that would increase the armor factor of each by a factor of two. Finally, she had a pair of helmets. Now she just had to try them on.

She quickly figured out that the black vest with the 'Pro-Armor' label fitted her the best. The other vest, from a company called 'ArmorPlus' wasn't a terrible fit, but it was just a little too loose for her slim torso. The first vest, on the other hand, Taylor was able to adjust with its straps until it was a perfect fit.

That vest also not only covered her chest and back, but had trauma panels that covered the sides of her upper body from under her arms to her waist as well. She also had an extra trauma plate that went into her chest panel, supposedly making it resistant to point blank fire from an assault rifle. Now to try on the pants, she thought.

Once she'd properly adjusted the armored pants, Taylor tried a few tentative movements, then a few more vigorous ones. She immediately noticed that she wasn't quite as flexible wearing these as she'd been before, but it was a minor problem at worst. The body armor didn't really slow her down, which was the most important thing.

Taylor took off at a full sprint towards the other end of the building. She ran right up the wall and threw herself backward as she neared the ceiling. She spun twice in the air, landing on her feet, her knees flexed.

Standing up straight, she decided that this would do just fine. Now to see how the helms fit.

The first helm that Taylor tried on fit okay, but she didn't like the way it made her head look. It was a bit too insect-like. The second one, on the other hand, was a slightly better fit, and even better, closely followed the contours of her skull. While it was likely that neither helm would stop a round from an assault rifle, they should be able to prevent a handgun from splattering her brains in the event she was shot. At least from the rear or side, as she was unwilling to use the front, screw on plate, as it blocked too much of her vision.

No, she'd have to take her chances there, Taylor decided, fingering the helm she'd decided on. But it should work to keep her at least a little safer. Plus, she'd already seen seen how easy it was to stay out of the line of fire of a weapon after fighting the two Wards last night.

Of course, that brought her thoughts back to Sophia Hess, but resolutely, Taylor dismissed the girl from her mind. Instead, she thought back on the fight, how after she'd finally dropped the weights, she'd easily dodged the bolts that Shadow Stalker had sent her way. She'd also begun moving even before the bolts fired, knowing that they would not strike her, since they weren't lined up properly.

Taylor thought that she could do the same thing with a gun. While she wasn't fast enough to actually dodge bullets once fired, she could move with an erratic precision to stay out of the _line_ of fire, somehow knowing where a bullet would travel within a fraction of an inch just by seeing the direction the gun's barrel was pointed. Of course, so long as she didn't get shot in the face, it likely wouldn't matter, as she could heal herself.

Truthfully, though, she'd prefer not to get shot in the first place.

Deciding that she needed to go ahead and work on her costume, she headed towards a local True Value hardware store and picked up a dozen rolls of plastic sheeting for less than thirty dollars. Then she headed back toward her hideout.

Before she cut out of the main parts of her costume, Taylor took a moment to cut a small piece of metal that would end up as the bracing for her mask. The metal she used wasn't that thick, and she was able to work it fairly easily to approximate the shape of her upper face.

Once the diamond shaped metal base was done, she cut out the black leather that she was planning to use to wrap it. Once she was done with that, she grabbed the plastic wrap that she'd bought.

Covering the work table thoroughly, then taping the plastic down at the edges, Taylor took out one of the bolts of material she'd taken to make her costume from and spread out several yards of it. It was a thicker material, made from a mixture of cotton and artificial fibers that made it somewhat flame resistant as as well as easily cleanable. It was also very durable, based upon everything that she had read about it.

Of course, she'd picked it as much for the fact that it was beautiful as for its durability. In color, the material was a kind of battleship gray color, although possibly a shade darker. It was also surprisingly soft. The other bolts of material were also gray, although half were a few shades lighter in color.

Getting out the pattern she'd made, Taylor set out to cut out the panels that she would later sew together. It took her a little longer than she'd thought to do an entire costume, but part of that was because she wanted it to be perfect. The shears she'd taken the night before did a fantastic job of cutting the material.

Staring at the neat stacks of material that now sat on her work table, Taylor took a deep breath. Now the only thing she had to do was to sew it all back together.

Deciding that it would be a lot easier to use her mom's old sewing machine that it would be to sew it all by hand, Taylor headed home carrying a bag containing the pieces of her entire costume, including the new mask she'd cut out to replace the old one, as well as the body armor that she'd decided upon. The still unsewn fabric pieces sat on top of the other items to keep them clean and unwrinkled.

Turning down her street, Taylor was surprised to see several cars around the house of one of their neighbors. As she walked by, she saw Mr Khaled walking down the sidewalk away from the house. She hurried to catch up to the older man.

"Mr Khaled! Wait up!"

Shrewd eyes met Taylor's own as finally caught up to the man. "Ahh, Taylor, how are you today? A bit cold out, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "I'm good. Maybe a little cold, but I like it. How are you, Mr Khaled?"

The man made a gesture with one hand that seemed to say 'not too good, not too bad'. Aloud, he said, "I am okay. Not like poor Mrs Fillipy."

"What happened to Mrs Fillipy?" Taylor asked, only vaguely remembering the chubby woman, someone a few years older than her parents, who lived three houses past Mr Khaled.

Mr Khaled sighed. "She is dead. Cancer, her son said. She had a long battle, but finally lost it on Wednesday. They were having a memorial service at her home for friends and family today. I went by to pay my condolences."

Taylor stood there, speechless. She hadn't even known that the woman was ill. Slowly a memory wormed its way into her mind, of a knock on the door during the worst time of her life, a cheerful face, and a huge pot of chicken and dumplings that she had and her dad had eaten on for days. She had taken back the clean pot a few days later, and had gotten a big hug, something which she'd badly needed at the time.

Now the woman was dead, and she'd never be able to return the favor that she'd been given. Slowly, she asked, "Why couldn't she get Panacea to cure it? Doesn't she do stuff like that for free?"

The older man walking next to her shrugged. "Maybe so. But I think it is not so easy to see someone like that. Someone important. Especially when you're just a regular person. After all, Panacea must also live her life. She can't heal people all the time."

It was wisely said, but it didn't help the feelings of guilt and regret that filled Taylor. She'd healed her father, and used her ability upon herself on more than one occasion. But she'd never even considered healing other people. Of helping people who maybe weren't able to gain the attention of someone like Panacea, who, in the end, was only one person.

She came back to reality at the touch of hand upon her shoulder. "It's okay, Taylor. Mrs Fillipy was a nice lady who lived a full life, even if not so long a one as she and her children would have liked. She wouldn't want you to feel bad."

Remembering the cheerful smile, Taylor reflected that she probably wouldn't. On the other hand, she likely would still feel guilty for quite a while. Resolving to do something about it, she said her goodbyes, then headed home.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

William Fillipy opened the door at the knock. He was tired and truthfully would be very happy when everyone left. The memorial service _had_ been nice, the priest who'd led it the same one who'd baptized him so many years ago. Father Donovan had known his mother for many years, and had been able to provide several anecdotes and insights from her life and character.

He stared at the tall, slim teenage girl who stood before him. Quiet brown eyes set wide apart in a thin face stated back into his. "Yes?"

"My name is Taylor Hebert. I live around the corner. I didn't know about what happened with Mrs Fillipy until today when I ran into Mr Khaled. I just stopped by to drop off some food and to say I'm sorry about what happened."

William finally registered the large flat pan the girl was holding in her slim arms. He belatedly asked, "Why don't you come in? You can put that in the kitchen. I'm William Fillipy, her son."

The girl, Taylor, nodded her head jerkily. She followed him as he headed towards the kitchen, carefully threading his way through the other guests. Once they were there, he vaguely waved towards the counter, which was covered with now mostly empty containers of food that other people had brought.

The girl looked dismayed at the mess as she tried to set the container on the counter top, finally having to stack a couple of empty bowls that he thought had once held something like potato and macaroni salad respectively. Once it was down, she turned back towards Bill and asked, "Is it okay if I try and clean up a little in here? I didn't know your mother that well, but she came by when my mom died a couple of years ago and it... helped."

"I... sure, I guess. Just don't do too much. I'll finish cleaning up after everyone leaves."

"I won't. Why don't you go back into the other room and talk to your guests?"

With that, William found himself ushered out of the room.

The next few hours passed in a blur, and he barely even knew who talked to him. Instead, he remembered his mother, everything from how she'd yell at his dad when she lost her temper to how sweet she was when she was trying to help out others. Vaguely, he registered a slim figure moving in and out of the living room, occasionally talking to guests, while at the same time, picking up the myriad of dirty dishes that had been slowly accumulating as everyone ate and drank.

William came back to himself as he sat on the covered commode in the downstairs half bath. He'd been hiding in here for over half an hour, he realized. He needed to get back to his guests.

Getting to his feet with a heaviness that was more spirit than body, he washed his hands, then opened the door. Aware of a silence that seemed strange after the last few hours, William walked into the living room to find it deserted, except for Father Donovan.

"Will, son, are you feeling all right?"

He nodded mechanically. "Yes, Father, I'm fine. Just tired, I think. It's been a long couple of days. And the people..." He made a helpless gesture.

"Well, I'm the last of them. You and the young lady will be alone once I've left."

Stupidly, William repeated, "Young lady?"

"Yes. Taylor, I think her name was. She's definitely a go getter. Is she family?"

At the man's words, William managed to close his gaping mouth. Why would that girl still be here? Realizing that Father Donovan was still waiting for an answer, he murmured, "Not exactly. Friend of the family. Is she in the kitchen?"

Father Donovan smiled sadly and nodded. "Probably. Doing the last of the clean up, I think. Take care of yourself, son. Don't hesitate to come by the Parrish if you can. God always has time."

He forced a smile as he said, "I will, Father. Thank you. For everything."

Once the man left, William walked through the empty house, surprised to find everything as neat and clean as it had ever been. Maybe even a bit cleaner than usual, he decided. His mother had always been a bit of an indifferent housekeeper, but she made up for it with her cooking.

Walking into the kitchen, he found the girl, Taylor, finishing up the last of the dishes. Stunned, he realized that the counter was now completely clear, all of the food put away. At least, what was left of it.

In its place, there were a few stacks of neatly cleaned dishes belonging to various neighbors sitting on well scrubbed counters, while the nearby drain rack was full of clean plates, bowls, and utensils. As William watched, the girl pulled the drain on the kitchen sink, taking a dishrag and running it one final time around the edge, before rinsing it off, wringing it out, and hanging it on the edge of the sink.

She turned towards him with a solemn look on her face as she took off the apron she'd donned and neatly hung in on the hook next to the refrigerator. "Mr Fillipy, how are you doing?"

"I can't believe you did all this. You didn't have to."

Taylor shrugged. "It's the least I could do. I put the lasagna in the fridge, and it's ready to heat back up whenever you want. Just twenty minutes at three hundred and fifty degrees, okay?"

"I..."

Taylor stepped up and gave William a hug, something which he'd been able to avoid most of the day. Only a few of the older female friends of his mother had made it past his defenses. And one teenage girl.

Feeling the strength in her slender form, William hugged her back. He blinked back tears as grief rose within him. At the same time, human contact succored him. Finally, he let her go, aware he'd been holding on a little too long. "Thank you for everything, Taylor."

"If you need anything else, my dad and I live in the grey house with the teal trim four houses north. Take care of yourself, Mr Fillipy. I'll try to stop back in a few days to pick up the pan if that's okay?"

He nodded dumbly. Then Taylor walked back out of the kitchen and out the front door.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

"What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Hess?" Emily asked, her tone severe as she stared at the young woman with her dark, defiant eyes.

There was momentary silence and Emily continued her hard stare. A few seconds later, the girl exploded. "How the hell was I to know you were spying on me? Fuck! This is such bullshit! We should be out there busting heads, not trying to pin the blame on me for that little dust up last night!"

Emily's eyes narrowed. Little dust up indeed, she thought. "That little 'dust up,' as you describe it, cost the business owner more than thirty thousand dollars because of damage to the building and lost merchandise. Apparently, when you get blood all over something, you can't sell it."

Sophia muttered, "That's Aegis' fault, not mine."

From next to Emily, Armsmaster rumbled, "It was an unnecessary fight. If you had bothered to stop and question the girl, you would have discovered that she'd left money to pay for the things she took. While both we and the store involved prefer that people do their shopping in the daytime, it was relatively innocuous compared to the damaged involved in having three capes duke it out."

Sophia Hess didn't answer. Nor did Emily really expect her to. It was just the latest in a series of incidents that the girl had been involved in. She was just glad they'd gone ahead and set her mask's cameras to auto-record everything as a safety measure. It made her decision all that much easier.

Sophia stood up, throwing up her hands in anger. "Look, if you're sending me back to juvie, just say so. I don't give two shits one way or another!"

"Sit down, Miss Hess. Sit down and shut up." Emily waited until her icy words forced the teen into sullen obedience before continuing, "Neither Armsmaster, nor myself, have any intention of sending you to juvenile detention."

The girl's eyes widened in disbelief. "You don't?"

"No."

Emily waited as the girl's expression slowly settled into one of smug satisfaction. Then with icy precision, she stated, "However, we find ourselves in a difficult situation. With the property damage sustained, and yet another incident attributed to one of our members, the _same_ member in fact, there has to be a sacrifice."

The girl, who had been practically gloating, started to look alarmed at Emily's words. Nodding, she continued, "Yes, a sacrifice. As it turns out, we've found the perfect position for a cape that seems unable to follow the simplest directions. Who wants to behave in a violent fashion. As it turns out, the very qualities that make you a liability here, make you particularly suited for duty there. So effective immediately, you, Sophia Hess, have been transferred to the containment zone around Ellisburg, West Virginia. Enjoy your new assignment."

"What the fuck! Are you insane? I'm not going there!"

Emily waited for Armsmaster to step in, which he did smoothly and with alacrity. "Actually, Shadow Stalker, you will. Because if you don't, I'm afraid we're going to have to not only reopen the investigation into that Hebert girl's bullying, but revisit the court agreement that allowed you into the Wards in the first place."

Sophia suddenly looked more nervous than angry. "What does that mean?"

This time it was Emily who spoke in a hiss, "What it means, Miss Hess, is that you no longer have a high-powered attorney in your corner that thinks you saved his daughter. We don't have the entire story, but we know that you did Alan Barnes a favor for which he repaid you by defending you in your hearing. Now, however, you would be represented by a public defender, one with minimal experience, who would be lucky to get the charges reduced to manslaughter."

Emily stood up heavily, staring down at the teen. "What you are going to do is to willingly accept the reassignment to Ellisburg. Once there, you will keep your head down. If you do that, when you turn eighteen, all of this has a chance to blow over, allowing you to join the Protectorate as an adult. If not, you could end up in Parahuman prison, which, as a former member of the Wards, would not be a good place to be. Understand me?"

The girl looked down, her expression once again sullen, any fear well hid. She muttered, "I understand."

Emily nodded sharply. "I'll have the papers delivered to you here. Sign them. You'll be on a plane by the end of the day."

"What about my family? I can't see them?"

"No, Miss Hess. Nor can you convince me that you truly want to. Once you reach Ellisburg, you'll be able to send and receive letters. After a few months, with official approval, you'll be able to speak to them over the phone."

"Fine."

Emily left the room, accompanied by Armsmaster. Once they were out of earshot, she asked, "How the hell did we end up having to do this?"

The dour Tinker, who was not exactly known as a people person, shrugged. "I suspect I should have listened to my second in command when she suggested this was a mistake. That we should have revoked her probation as soon as she initially violated its terms. She also mentioned issues with the other Wards."

Frowning, Emily thought that was exactly why Miss Militia would make a better leader for the Protectorate ENE than the man standing in front of her. Armsmaster was simply too internally focused and self-involved to be able to focus on the needs of others. Not a bad man, but one with serious weaknesses that affected certain aspects of his job performance.

Then again, it had been her idea to keep the girl within the Wards rather than send her to juvenile detention. Armsmaster had merely gone along without argument.

There were times when Emily was rather glad that her counterpart within the Protectorate was passive and self-absorbed as Armsmaster had shown himself to be. It made getting the Wards put under her authority, for all intents and purposes, much easier.

On the other hand, it also meant that she didn't really have anyone with which to share leadership duties, or the pressure that came with those same duties. While Emily used Miss Militia to take care of a surprisingly number of day to day details, only the fact that the woman didn't sleep let her not only carry out her requests, but those of her nominal boss as well. There was no one she could trust enough to really speak frankly with.

The two of them walked a bit further, then arrived at their destination. Walking through the door, Emily took in the sight of Aegis and Miss Militia standing side by side, as they had risen at their entrance. She walked over to the head of the table, gesturing for Armsmaster to sit to her right.

Suppressing a sigh of relief at the once more being seated, Emily spoke crisply, "The purpose of this brief meeting is to assign classifications and limits on the newest cape in Brockton Bay, who we have codenamed 'Dodger'. Aegis, what are your thoughts?"

The young man met her eyes with refreshing directness. He possessed all of the leadership skills and charisma that Armsmaster lacked. He did, however, use a similar style when speaking, likely modeling himself after the man. "Director, I've given it some thought since the fight last night. Thinker 2 for the ability to dodge my attacks when she could not have seen me coming. She also dodged Shadow Stalkers bolts. Brute 3 from the strength of the blows she struck me with. Striker 3 for the ability to hit both myself and Shadow Stalker with some kind of invisible weapon, even when Stalker was in her shadow state."

Emily nodded at the summary. "Well said, Aegis." Turning to Miss Militia, she asked, "Do you concur?"

Miss Militia nodded. "I would like to add a Mover 1 rating as well. Dodger made multiple stops last night in widely separated areas of the city over a surprisingly short time frame. Plus, while we have three reported stops, it would not shock me to discover that there were more stops that went unreported, the funds left simply being pocketed or deposited without comment."

Nodding, Emily said, "That's an excellent point. Anything to add, Armsmaster?"

"I'd like to make the point that the Striker effect that Aegis reported might be the result of a Tinker-made weapon, rather than some natural ability. While I think we should continue with the Striker rating, we should also keep an open mind and be observant upon our next encounter."

"Hmm..." Emily thought a moment, then said, "Anything to add, anyone?"

Aegis cleared his throat, then said, "Director, I do have a couple of observations. First, while Shadow Stalker was convinced that our opponent was a guy, I think that she's wrong. I think Dodger's a girl. Not really something I can explain, but I think I'm right. Also, this was almost certainly Dodger's first night out. The costume he or she wore was poorly made, clearly just old clothing repurposed as a costume to hide their identity. Even the mask was pretty crappy."

"That's all in the report, Aegis, except for the reference to Dodger's sex. Was there some deeper conclusion buried in all of that?"

"Yes, ma'am. What I was trying to say is that since Dodger's new, they might still be open to the Wards. If we handle any subsequent meetings in a more positive manner. Friendliness and respect might still carry the day. Plus, they likely know the dangers solo heroes and vigilantes face if they've spent any time on PHO."

While the boy drew his conclusion, Emily glanced over at the two older capes, gauging their agreement. Armsmaster seemed to agree, despite the frown he wore. On the other hand, Miss Militia was nodding slightly as Aegis spoke, in clear agreement with his conclusions.

"Thank you, Aegis. We'll be providing you and your team direction on how we'd like further contact handled before your next patrol. Obviously, there will be no patrols until more members of the Wards are fully recovered from the flu. You're dismissed. Go get some rest."

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a good day."

When the door closed behind him, Emily turned her attention back to the two Parahumans. "What are your thoughts as to how to handle any future interactions with Dodger?"

Armsmaster steepled his fingers where his hands rested on the table. "I wouldn't mind someone with those abilities in the Wards. Dodger showed some measure of restraint when faced with the two Wards. He or she didn't initiate combat, only fighting when attacked. That they also paid for the items they took is another factor in their favor."

Pulling his hands back, he continued, "However, there was another attack that evening which I've managed to link to Dodger. A convenience store was broken into over on Twenty-eighth and Barlow. The four would-be burglars were taken down fast. There was no clear cut evidence of a Parahuman ability being used, but the description of someone moving 'inhumanly' fast caused our system to flag the report. Based upon the perpetrator's description of their assailant, and the store's location near the triangle of the burglaries, it's likely there's a connection."

"So... What's your conclusion? Dodger ran into other criminals while out and about and dealt with them in vigilante fashion? What do you think, Miss Militia?"

Miss Militia had been nodding along with Armsmaster's words, her eyes above her bandanna thoughtful. "Could be. Even if Dodger is a villain, there is often a sense of territoriality associated with most villains and their gangs. If she's a vigilante, she may have just come across the crime while on her way to or from her home base and taken them down."

Armsmaster nodded. "My concern is that there was a certain amount of brutality shown toward the burglars. The one standing guard outside was simply choked unconscious. However, one of the three attacked inside was struck viciously at the base of the skull, while the evidence suggests his leg was broken after he was already down. The other two were beaten unconscious."

Emily made a decision. "Thank you for the information, Armsmaster. However, I've made my decision. For now, we will approach the vigilante designated Dodger with an approach designed to lure them into the Wards or Protectorate, depending upon their age. Miss Militia, if you'll please speak to the Wards about this approach. Armsmaster, please do the same with the remaining members of your team. Any questions?"

Both of the others shook their heads, so Emily headed back to her office. It was just what they needed, yet another Parahuman who walked a thin line between villainy and vigilantism. Hopefully, they would be able to pull the cape back firmly over onto their side of the line. Heroism sounded a lot better than either of the other two choices.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Carlos made his way back to the Wards' quarters, glad when he was finally able to take off his costume and grab a shower. As he walked inside, though, he was confronted by a thirteen-year-old who stared up him with a mulish expression on her face.

With a sigh, he asked, "What's up, Missy?"

The girl coughed heavily, then asked, "What's going on, Carlos? I can't get a straight answer from anyone about last night."

"Maybe that's because nothing was decided before a few minutes ago."

The girl poked him in the chest, while clutching her blanket around her shoulders. "So what was finally decided?"

"Shadow Stalker's out." Carlos ignored the whooping sound from his teammate as he continued, "She's been reassigned to shit duty out of state. We won't see any time soon. Of course, that means we're shorthanded now."

Missy sat back down on the couch that looked like it had been her campsite for some time. There were food wrappers all over the place, as well as a more than a dozen empty and half empty bottles of water, along with several different over the counter flu medications.

Clucking his tongue, Carlos started to clean things up. "Missy, you should really go home. You look terrible. Plus, there's not going to be any patrols until the rest of the team is on their feet."

The girl pulled her blanket over her shoulders, shivering slightly. "Don't care. Not going home. That's final."

Carlos knew he wouldn't be getting that shower any time soon. Instead, he headed back out to pick up food from the cafeteria, which he brought back. Then he fixed a batch of Theraflu using hot tap water. Setting the glass of yellowish liquid on the table next to her, he said, "Drink that. Don't argue."

"Fine. I'm not going to eat anything, though."

Half an hour and two entrées later, the girl was asleep and Carlos was headed to the showers. As he washed the sludge of a long day and night from himself, he sighed. Secretly, he agreed with Missy about Sophia. He was glad the girl was gone. She'd been a pain in the ass since the day she'd first joined them.

Sullen and uncooperative, for some unknown reason harboring contempt for them all, Sophia Hess had been a bitch from the first day she'd walked in. She'd never had a friend on the team, and none of them were confident that she'd have their backs in the event something serious went down.

The other night was just the final straw that broke the camel's back. Carlos had known there was something wrong as he was swooping in, but had attempted to take down the other Parahuman regardless. He still felt chagrin at how easily he'd been handled, but Shadow Stalker had gone down just as easily, if not more so.

He was pretty sure that if he'd made the initial approach, things would have gone a lot differently. There might or might not have been still been a fight, but if there had been, he'd have made sure the two of them were far better positioned. He reflected that it was a lot harder to dodge two people at once than two coming in sequentially.

After he finished showering, Carlos grabbed a bite of food himself, then settled into a comfortable recliner. He was glad he didn't have school tomorrow as he planned to stay here and take care of Missy. His parents wouldn't be happy to miss the one day a week he usually spent completely at home, but they'd understand once he explained the circumstances.

He was just dozing off when a soft voice brought him back. "Carlos? I don't mind doing extra shifts if that means Sophia is gone. Promise."

"No worries, Missy. We'll work it out in the the future. Now get some sleep, okay? I'll be here tonight and tomorrow to take care of you, so you had better be on your best behavior."

There was a watery giggle, then silence. A few minutes later, the only sound in the room was the even breathing of two people.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Danny stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to start this conversation. Unfortunately, he didn't receive any help. The other man present seemed content to let the silence continue indefinitely. Finally, he blurted, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

There was a pregnant silence, then Michael asked, "Sorry for what?"

Damn, he thought, the man was going to make him say it. "I'm sorry for the things I said to you the last time I was here."

Michael Dumphy looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "I'm not sure I can forgive you for what you said to me."

Wearily, Danny nodded. "If it were me, I'm not sure I would be able to forgive it either. What I'm hoping is that you're a better man than I am."

There was a bark of surprised laughter, before Michael spoke, his tone grudging, "I don't know that I'm a better man that you are, Danny Hebert. You did manage to raise a great girl, after all. But you shouldn't have done what you did. Said what you said. Even thinking about it after all this time makes my blood boil and its all I can do not to come over the counter."

Gut clenching at the shameful memory, Danny said, "I understand. If you can't, I have no choice but to accept it. Regardless of whether you forgive me or not, I wanted to say that if Taylor plans to come by again, whether to shop or just hang out, it's fine. She's a better person than either one of us and the best thing that I've ever done in my entire life."

Michael looked surprised, then thoughtful. Finally, he held out a broad, calloused hand, one that seemed a bit out of place on a man who spent most of his time behind the counter. Danny shook it, even as he winced slightly at the pressure the other used. Releasing his hand, Michael said, "I'll welcome her in the store, Danny. But I won't lie to her. If she asks, I'll tell her the truth."

Danny felt the dryness in his mouth, and worked his tongue around to relieve the sensation. "Tell her if you want. I'm ashamed of what I did, but I know she'll forgive me in the end."

The other man shrugged. "Most likely. You're right that she's a better person than either of us. Maybe I won't tell her. After all, it's clear that you've been a better father to her since our talk than you were before. So maybe you don't deserve that. I make no promises, though."

"I don't ask for any. Have a good day, Michael."

"You as well, Danny."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Once she was home again, Taylor spent three hours sewing up the pieces of cloth she'd cut out for her costume. She managed to finished everything except the handful of hemming she'd need to do by hand. Pinning everything in place for later, she set it aside and headed downstairs to start dinner.

Mrs Fillipy and her cancer was still very much on her mind. If only she'd known, Taylor thought. She would have been able to do something about it. After all, hadn't she fixed her dad's heart, making it stronger than ever?

Of course, she couldn't have healed Mrs Fillipy as Taylor Hebert. That would have put paid to all of her efforts to stay hidden. To stay anonymous.

No, if she went out and healed people, it would have to be as Avatar. Plus, she'd have to be discreet. Not look for credit, maybe even go out of her way to avoid credit. After all, if she wasn't careful, she could find herself getting outed, her dad threatened, maybe even shanghaied by one of the gangs.

But the risk was worth it to be able to help people. To fulfill the promise she'd made the night before. She wanted to help people more than anything else. If she was careful, she might even be able to do something about it tonight.

Taylor had dinner waiting for her dad when he came home, but he barely ate anything, seeming to be in a strange mood. Rather than press him, she decided to give him room, not even commenting when he went to bed early for a Saturday night.

She herself wasn't even slightly tired, so decided to to wait until her dad was asleep and head out to her hide out to run her obstacle course and perhaps work on a new rack to hold her recently acquired barbell. Tomorrow night, once she was done with her costume, she'd see about swinging by Our Lady of Mercy Hospital over on the north end of Lord Street.

It was one of the poorer hospitals in town, and Taylor didn't think that Panacea went there very often. While that might mean that the worst patients were sent to Brockton Bay General to see the Parahuman healer, it also might just mean that those who part of the city's lower class were short changed yet again. Not that there was any point in fretting over it as she'd find out soon enough. Tomorrow, in fact.

While she was waiting, Taylor read an advanced book on Differential Equations. Once done, she thought she understood most of it, but would need to do some of the problems inside to see if there was anything that was still beyond her.

She was still trying to stretch out her abilities and doing hard math was just one more way to do so. Hopefully, she'd find another way to do the same thing with another ability before the night was over.

Two hours later found her in her lair, carefully welding up the frame for her new barbell rack. The rack was very solid, something she found out while trying to bend it. She'd been able to even though it had been more than a little difficult.

Two deceptively simple A frames connected at their bottoms by four pieces of steel forming a rectangle, she'd welded thick pieces of steel every few inches down one slope of the rack's frame, angled up slightly so that she'd be able to use it hold barbells at several different heights. That would allow her to use it to perform a variety of exercises.

Carefully checking every single weld, Taylor found herself satisfied with her work. She'd even welded up an actual bench to lay upon to do presses for her chest and topped it with a five foot long wooden beam, sixteen inches wide by three inches thick. It was all sturdy and solid and should serve its intended purpose.

Bringing up the information from the book on weightlifting she'd read, Taylor ran herself through an intense workout with the heaviest weights she could lift. As it happened, she had enough weights to do so, but only just. When she finally tallied up what she was able to not just lift, but to lift over multiple sets of ten to twelve repetitions, Taylor was more than a little shocked.

She'd known she was far stronger than even a strong man, but to find out that she could bench press more than eight hundred pounds multiple times, while doing presses over her head with just a hundred pounds less. When it came to her legs, she was able to squat just over a thousand pounds and dead lift the same.

As she'd thought before, she wouldn't be challenging Glory Girl any time soon, as the cape had been photographed lifting cars, it was still more than enough for her purposes. Couple that with her agility and speed, the martial arts she was slowly mastering, and Taylor thought herself to be a very formidable hand to hand opponent.

Her lightning, limited as it was repetition-wise, gave her a ranged attack, as did the bow and arrows she'd bought. Even the throwing knives she had would increase her range. Then there was her staff, which appeared capable of hitting even Parahumans like Shadow Stalker while in her shadow state.

Taylor dismissed her train of thought, something else weighing heavily upon her mind.

Sitting there staring at the weights, Taylor was aware of a deep ache in her muscles that was already beginning to recede. From the knowledge she'd taken from the book, she knew she should be sore tomorrow, but had a feeling she wouldn't be. But even that wasn't what occupied her thoughts.

Instead, it was the idea, something that had started out as a vague suspicion, and that was rapidly deepening into something resembling actual belief, that she'd gotten stronger since that first day she'd played around with her dad's weights down in their basement.

On that day, she hadn't had enough weight to really push herself. So she'd only had a vague idea of how strong she actually was. However, while she'd certainly done some amazing things over the past couple of weeks, ranging from the runs she'd gone on to having to flee from the Undersiders and the Wards, nothing in there should have made her stronger.

So what had happened? Were her powers unlike those of other Parahumans which seemed to remain mostly static? The only cape that Taylor knew of that became stronger over time was Lung, the leader of the ABB, but even he only did so for so long as he fought, returning to normal after.

Certainly, she hadn't gotten any faster or quicker, right? Then again, Taylor hadn't really measured those qualities definitively. She still had no idea how fast she could run, other than it was fast. She had no idea how quick her reflexes were, other than far faster than a normal person's.

While she was at the sporting goods store, she should have taken a radar gun, the kind used to measure the speed of baseballs and the like. That would have at least given her a quantitative number for one ability.

Still, the fact that she hadn't then didn't mean she couldn't now. A radar gun wasn't a purchase that would make anyone suspicious. Now if she could only figure out ways to measure her other abilities that was half as simple.

Taking a moment to jot down the weights and repetitions she'd done, Taylor headed over to her obstacle course. She spent some time building a few more obstacles, most with small holes just barely big enough to crawl though. The holes were meant to be entered head or feet first with the entire weight of one's body behind the move.

If done properly, you wouldn't lose any speed as you moved through the course. If you missed, it meant a painful impact of one's feet, hands, or even the nose, ears, or chin against the hole's frame. It was likely that very thing would happen at some point, but Taylor knew she needed it to advance with the parkour technique she'd taught herself.

Deciding that now was as good a time as any to test the course's improvements, Taylor ran into it as fast as she could. Leap, drop, roll, slide, sprint, kick off the wall, drop, roll, the movements almost automatic for her, despite the constant changes she was making. Arriving at the new area, she threw herself forward, then tucked her arms to her sides, her feet pointed, and her head in a perfect line with her body.

Taylor flew through the tiny hole that was just barely bigger than her own body's silhouette, the only impact the slight scraping of the cloth on her chest against the top of the hole. Then she was landing on her feet, rolling, then leaping off the wall to increase her height, before dropping down through another hole.

Even smaller than the first, this time there was the tiniest impact as her knuckles scraped on the hole's sides. Refusing to allow it to daunt her, Taylor threw herself into a somersault, before hitting the concrete floor, redirecting much of the force by rolling forward, before launching herself headfirst through yet another hole.

A moment later, she was done, a huge smile stretching her mouth. Taylor was aware of the faint sting of a scraped knuckle, as well as another scrape upon her forehead. But she'd done it. Easily in fact.

Smile fading, Taylor realized it had been too easy. Despite her attempts to make the course harder, she'd gone through it far to fast. It hadn't really pushed her at all.

Plus, the space within the building, as big as it had seemed at first, was just a little too limited to be able to truly make an ideal course. Oh, she could increase the size of the course a bit more, as it currently only took up less than half of the building's total interior space, but it would still be a too small, too limited to push her.

Taylor's thoughts turned immediately to the Boat Graveyard that began four miles northeast of her current location and covered more than two square miles. Those old rusted hulks were a definite possibility for stretching her parkour skills. While she really didn't want to move her entire operation, it could be good to spend at least some time there.

At peace once the decision was made, Taylor decided to head home. While she only needed four hours or so of sleep these days, it wouldn't do to have her dad wake up and find her gone. With a final look around, she gathered her stuff and headed home.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Humming a little under her breath, Taylor pulled a needle with thread through a final loop, yanked it even tighter, then bit it off. There, that should be it, she thought, shaking out the garment. Now all she had to do was try it on.

She listened a moment to make sure her dad wasn't nearby, then decided to try her entire costume on. For real this time, armor and all.

Taking a moment, she did a quick braid of her hair, then wound that braid into a tight bun that sat at the base of her skull. There, that should keep her long hair out of the way, while at the same time protecting it from damage.

She laid out her Under Armor sports bra, and leggings, then stripped down to her panties. About to slip her feet into the leggings, Taylor paused, staring at herself in the mirror. With a sigh, she rolled her eyes at the vain hope she'd changed other than to grow a little taller, and began to dress.

Once she had on the Under Armor items, Taylor knelt down under her bed and pulled out the large bag there that held one complete set of body armor that she thought went together best. Pulling out the various pieces, she began putting them all on.

First went the vest and back piece, each holding an extra steel/ceramic composite plate for added protection. Next, she put on the armor pants, with their internal plates that protected her thighs, knees, and shins. Lastly, she put on the helmet that had fitted her head best.

She jumped and down in the armor, but it felt just as it had before, the loss of flexibility seeming even a little less pronounced than before. Walking over to the rest of her costume, she first put on the simple tunic that covered her chest and hung just short of mid-thigh. Next, came her costume pants, the material of both pieces designed to hang in such a way as to disguise the body armor she wore. The wide black leather belt went next, looped through the pants and buckled in the front

Taylor attached the cape and hood to the rest of the her costume using the buckles and straps she'd sewn in, pulling up the hood so that it covered her head. She next put on her mask, making sure it covered her face, the feel of it a bit weighty because of the metal reinforcement beneath the black leather. She'd padded the inside with a bit of foam, so that it didn't hang too heavily against her skin.

Slipping on socks and the steel-toed, black leather boots, as well as the thick black leather gloves, Taylor took a moment to just breath. Then she turned to face the mirror on the wall of her room. And stared.

Who the hell was standing there in her room and what had they done with Taylor?

Taylor stared at the image reflected in the mirror, a fierce smile on her face. She looked good. Really good. Maybe not Protectorate good, but close enough.

Her costume was a mainly series of gradients of gray, ranging from a very dark gray for her cloak and hood, to a medium gray for her pants and tunic. Her mask, gloves, and boots were all made of black leather, and looked bad ass together. As did the rune she'd put on her tunic in the same color.

The black thread was easily visible even on her gray tunic. Taylor had used the sewing machine to embroider the rune that she'd come to associate with herself in black thread. It had been almost how easily she had run the material through the sewing machine in one long run, fingers seeming to instinctively know the motions needed to create it. Once done, it looked amazing, both simple and complex at the same time.

Taylor frowned slightly as she stared at herself. There was something wrong. A long moment's inspection gave her the answer of what she needed to do to fix the problem.

Grabbing her needle and more of the black thread, Taylor made several extra stitches to the rune on the tunic of her costume, thickening a line here, adding more definition to a curve there. Each change made it feel more real. Finally, she nodded. It was finally _perfect_.

Staring at it intently, the rune seemed to shimmer in her sight, something that had Taylor blinking her eyes rapidly. What had she just seen?

But no matter how intently she stared at the rune afterward, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Dismissing whatever had happened from her thoughts, she went back to examining the rest of her costume. Finally, she nodded in satisfaction.

She decided that, all in all, what she had on was a great starter costume, with the added bonus of it actually providing some protection against bullets and the like. Equally important, Taylor needed it immediately, because she was going out tonight.

Thinking about poor Mrs Fillipy, she couldn't help but feel that she should have done something, anything. She hadn't used her ability to heal for any real purpose beyond helping her dad. Otherwise, all she'd done was waste it, the ability's capacity to reset each day serving little or no purpose as it hadn't been much needed. By her, at least.

But there were hundreds of people out there that she could help. Not officially, though. Taylor had no desire to receive praise and affirmation for helping others. How much of that was to avoid the pressure of others' expectations and how much of it was out of a sense of fear or modesty, she didn't know. But she did know that she'd do her damnedest to avoid letting anyone know she could heal people.

After all, how hard could it be to sneak into a hospital and heal someone?

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The entity turned his head sharply north. He'd sensed it again.

Some strange force that tugged at his attention, that ghosted across his golden flesh, almost as if he itched.

The entity had first sensed it multiple rotations of the world ago, as its inhabitants reckoned time. It had touched him, irritated him, and he had vainly sought its source for a time. Then it had receded, disappearing for a time.

Only to return six rotations later, stronger than ever.

The entity had used perception and foresight, coupled with other powerful shards, to see into the space around himself in a different manner which he had ever attempted before. Experimentation had led him to the strong possibility that this combination might reveal the source of his distress. That he'd done something so different from the norm had revealed the sheer magnitude of that unfamiliar emotion.

In doing so, it had revealed the other.

Ancient and fell, it had hovered near to him, and he had nearly recoiled at its presence. He'd attempted understanding only to find he could not encompass its form or meaning. Reaching out, he'd managed to hold it in place, multiple shards working seamlessly together, though its being was more insubstantial than anything he'd yet encountered in his long travels.

Knowing this strange being was a threat, no matter that he did not understand why, the entity had struck out, intending to destroy it. He'd reached out to still, his intent clear, only for the being to spurn his power, its riposte damaging not just his form here, but somehow reaching through the tiny tendril he maintained to the greater mass hidden in the distant reality upon a barren world. Not Sting, still it had affected the entity more than seemed possible.

Even now, something festered within him; something that he could not detect and counter, that pulled at his consciousness. Despite his pursuit of the other and their subsequent battle, the entity was still not sure he had actually destroyed it. Rather it had faded, the entity's continuing frustration and distress the only evidence of its existence.

The entity had returned his physical form nominally to perfection, but the area where he'd been struck still 'felt' damaged, as if it could not be repaired. It had only been that first blow, struck by something he could not perceive with foresight or any other shard he'd retained, that had so damaged him. Subsequent blows had merely destroyed pieces of his physical being, easily replaced.

The entity had eventually stilled the other. The effort needed had been far higher than expected. Never had his species encountered such a being. Even now, he did not know if the other was native to this world, or a traveler like himself from another world or reality.

In some ways, the entity regretted the other's passing. Could it have already found the solution his species sought? Even more, the entity regretted his counterpart's loss. Perhaps she could have encompassed the other's existence, as her role had ever been one more capable of understanding than his own.

For now, the entity would maintain vigilance against the return of the other or its agents. Reaching out to search once more, he burned off one tenth of a revolution's energies. Then another, with equal lack of results. No matter that it shortened his existence. The cycle was broken.

Still, the entity would not yield this world or its species. He had his role for now, one he would continue to play. Sensing a great fire far to the south, the entity known to the world as Scion headed in that direction to save what lives he could.

~~~~ATotD~~~~


	8. Chapter Eight: Laying On Hands

**Chapter Eight: Laying On Hands**

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor slid through the night, taking extra care to not allow herself to be seen. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a fight, Parahuman or otherwise. As she waltzed through a construction site, the girders looking like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky, she found herself using her parkour to weave between beams, and up and over half-poured foundations. Strangely, the staff strapped across her back didn't hang up or so much as even scrape as she leaped and ducked and slid between and along tiny spaces.

Around her, the night was alive with noise, from the nearby scrabbling of rats over bits of food, to the sounds of people and vehicles in the distance. When she heard crying coming from a building she was passing, Taylor almost stopped. But in the end, she moved on. It didn't sound as if the girl was being hurt, more as if they were just sad. If she managed to get by here again, she'd check it out if she heard it again.

It took about fifteen minutes at a fast jog to make it to Our Lady of Mercy. Studying the hospital in the yellow glare of the streetlights, Taylor winced. It looked even more rundown than it had the last time she'd been there, shortly after the death of her mother.

There was snow heaped up all around the hospital from the recent storm, as if no one had had time to haul it away. Or even cared to bother. While the actual entrances were shoveled, and the emergency room area was plowed, dirty snow lay heaped up over what would have been lawns. There were also drifts of snow piled up in areas of the parking lot, making it impossible for cars to use much more than half of the lot. Frowning, she continued to study the building before her.

Taylor finally nodded her head, realizing making a unobtrusive approach would be easy, as several of the tall streetlights in the parking lot were out, as were perhaps a third of the lights around the doors. Not that she planned to go in through a first floor door anyway.

No, she'd be going in through the roof. Which shouldn't be a problem if what she could see from here panned out.

Approaching the building, Taylor stayed out of the line of sight from any cameras, moving from shadow to shadow. To tell the truth, she wasn't altogether sure that any of the security cameras covering the exterior actually worked, but it was better not to take any risks. A moment later, she reached her goal. Staring upward, she saw again the thick pipe attached to the wall that led up to the roof.

First testing it by pulling hard on the pipe, a leg braced against the building's exterior, Taylor climbed it hand over hand, taking special care not to lose her grip, since it was exceptionally slippery because of a not so thin coating of ice. Fortunately, it led all the way to just above the roof. Slipping a leg over onto the ledge there, she eased herself to her feet, carefully looking around. A few seconds later, a feeling of reassurance filled her. There were no cameras up here, either.

The door leading inside was locked, but not with any kind of real lock. Instead, it was just one of those push button locks on the door handle itself. Taylor was able to jimmy it, using a piece of wire she had in the pouch on her belt.

Easing it open, she waited to see if an alarm would sound. While she waited, she checked the door, not seeing any wires or contacts that indicated any form of alarm system. After thirty seconds, she decided it was safe to go in. Slipping inside, Taylor made her way down a shadowy corridor.

The hospital looked abandoned to her jaundiced eye. It was clear that no one was using this floor, making it an ideal way in and out of the building. That is, so long as she was careful not to allow anyone else to find out about it.

In her exploration, Taylor ran into a fire door, that opened into a set of stairs leading down. She glanced over the edge, checking for the presence of any people. Fortunately, there wasn't anyone close enough to matter. She took her time going down the stairs, making sure to be as quiet as possible.

There was a window in the third floor door, which she glanced through, before easing it open. This floor was clearly occupied, the sounds of people and machinery easily audible to her ears. There was a conversation going on not too far away, which Taylor tuned into.

A male voice, bored. "What's her blood pressure?"

A young woman's voice, worried. "Ninety over fifty, Dr Morgan. Pulse is one hundred and eighteen."

"Give her two CC's of morphine for pain. Also, another liter of saline."

"What about doing a tracheotomy, Doctor? To ease her breathing?"

There was a sigh, then the doctor said, "Nurse, we will do the best we can to make this patient comfortable. However, Mrs Evans is not a good candidate for additional procedures. Her cancer has already reached her major organs. Short of a visit from Panacea, it's likely she'd be dead within a day or two."

There was a moment's silence, then the woman asked, "Do you want me to call her family again? They're refusing to sign a DNR. And Mrs Evans... well, she can't."

"Yes, please. The last thing I want to do is drag that poor woman back from death's door in the event she crashes."

Taylor had heard enough. She'd heal this Mrs Evans if she could get to her.

Easing through the door, she followed the direction from which the voices had originated. Walking down the hospital corridor, she made a face as she saw chipped floor tiles everywhere she looked, as well as the stained ceiling, likely caused by water leaks. The place really was falling apart.

Halfway to her target, she heard footsteps. She immediately opened the nearest door and stepped through.

Looking around her, Taylor realized that she was in a patient's room. Or rather two patients, both of whom were currently asleep. Walking over to the foot of their beds, she glanced over the charts there. It took her a minute to figure out what they said as they were written in medical jargon. In the end, though, she figured it out. One person was in for serious heart trouble, the other needed a liver transplant.

It looked like Mrs Evans would be waiting.

The heart patient was an older man, overweight, whose labored breathing filled the room. His skin florid, the man had short gray hair, receding slightly over a prominent brow and an even more prominent nose. The transplant patient was a dark-haired woman in her thirties, who might have been pretty if her skin didn't look parchment thin and yellowing. Both looked to be on death's door and Taylor knew she couldn't just walk away from them.

Removing one of her gloves, Taylor reached out and carefully touched the woman's arm. Reaching out for that healing ability inside of her, she poured it into the woman's body. She could feel her body healing, everything from a tooth that had grown in slightly crooked, to a the complete regeneration of her liver, clearing up all of poisons that lay in her body in seconds.

Taylor also did her best to make sure the woman didn't wake up. At first, she didn't think it had worked, as the woman's eyes and mouth opened as she gasped. Then she seemed to almost sigh, and settled into a deep slumber. Within a minute, she was breathing slowly as she fell into a deep slumber.

Making a mental note of what she'd just done so she could repeat it in the future, Taylor quickly moved over to the man. She touched him, healing pouring out from her into her patient. His changes were more dramatic, as not only did the valves in his heart regenerate to like new, but layers of plaque melted off all of the veins and arteries in his body. He'd also lost nearly fifty pounds, weight that would pour off of him through his urine over the next couple of days. She didn't know how she knew this, but she did.

Taylor listened at the door, then slipped out once she established that no one was there. Making her way down the hall, she was nearly to the door she was pretty sure the voices had emanated from, when she heard footsteps again.

This time, they were coming from both directions. Not just that, there appeared to be someone in the room she was aiming at.

Standing completely still at the side the hallway, Taylor waited to be discovered.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Ted Baxter said, "Well, I, for one, don't want to deal with the Merchants."

At his side, Cheryl Cummings shrugged. She advised, "Get over it. It's not like they're going to go to Brockton Bay General. We're closer and our security sucks. So they can get minimally treated and take off before the cops get here."

"Yeah, it sucks." Ted was just about to add something else when he stopped.

"What?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, where the hairs had suddenly stood up, he waited a moment before finally saying, "I thought I felt... Oh hell, I'm just getting jumpy. See? That's what the Merchants do to you."

Cheryl laughed. "You are such a lightweight, Teddy Bear."

"Hey! Don't call me that. You _know_ I hate it."

"What can I say? If the shoe fits..."

The two of them continued down toward the exit, exchanging good natured jibes. Before he walked through the door, Ted took one more look down the corridor, a faint shiver passing through him. He wasn't sure why, but he had felt a literal presence for just a moment, before it had faded away into nothingness. Even now, the memory of it made the hairs stand up all over his body as if his primitive hind brain was warning him of some unknown danger.

Maybe he was getting jumpy. Or just had low blood sugar. After all, he hadn't eaten for close to twelve hours. Hopefully, the meatloaf in the late night cafeteria was actually edible tonight. "Hey! Wait up!"

Ted hurried to catch up to his dinner companion.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor watched, stunned, as the two people walked right by her. Five seconds later, another man dressed in scrubs did the same thing from the other direction. What the hell?

Thinking about it for a moment, she could only conclude that the odd shimmer that the rune on her costume had given off when she'd completed it was responsible somehow. Whether it was true invisibility, or just some kind of camouflage, someone had walked within a foot of her and not seen her at all. Bizarre.

And useful. Taylor could think of all kinds of ways she would be able to use an ability like that. Like right now.

The door to the room she'd been heading toward opened, and a nurse walked out, probably the same one who'd been talking earlier. Taylor continued to stand still, watching as the woman walked right past. She also saw a similar reaction to the male nurse from earlier, as the woman suddenly shivered, looking around warily.

When she saw nothing to be alarmed about, the woman muttered something under her breath, then headed back down the corridor away from Taylor. Waiting until the nurse turned a corner, she moved forward and stepped into the room in front of her.

Identical to the one she'd been in earlier, it also was occupied by two patients. However, in the case of these patients, they were hooked up to a plethora of machines, that filled the room with beeps, hums, and whistling sounds.

Taylor immediately spotted Mrs Evans because of her age. She was a woman in her seventies who lay unconscious, multiple IV's going into her wrists, while a tube down her throat breathed for her. She took a step nearer, then stopped, as she got a look at the other person in the room.

A girl, no more than seven years old, lay in the other bed, only the top of her head and her hands visible. At least, Taylor thought it was a girl. She had no hair, possibly because of having undergone chemotherapy. Stick thin wrists stuck out of the sleeves of her hospital gown, and her skin was nearly as white as the sheets she was lying upon.

She was also completely awake and staring at Taylor with her blue eyes almost comically wide. Whatever ability allowed her to not be seen apparently didn't work if she was moving. Or maybe she had to want to be unseen. Regardless, she'd figure it out later. For now, she needed a way to handle the situation.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Sarah lay in the bed, her entire body hurting and weak. She wanted a glass of water, but wasn't sure she could get up to get one. She could call the nurse, but she hated to bother them for something she should be able to get herself.

She'd been sick for several months now, ever since that day she couldn't get out of bed to go to school. She'd been weak and sweating, a little like she was now, only not so bad. Plus, she'd had her own hair back then.

Touching the smooth skin on her head, Sarah forced down tears as she remembered the long golden locks that she'd had ever since she was really little. But they were a thing of the past, something that had been lost because of the medicine they'd given her to try to make her well.

Her mommy had explained it to her. That the medicine to make her well was so powerful that it would make her a little sick all by itself and make her lose her hair. Despite that, Sarah had cried for days when all her hair suddenly fell out. Now the feeling was just a dull ache inside of her, something that competed with the twisting feeling that always seemed to be inside of her tummy, making eating ever her favorite foods a chore. And always thirsty.

Somehow, she managed to slide off of her bed, the decision made without further consideration. Holding on to the edge of her bed to help brace her shaky legs, Sarah managed to make it all the way to the sink in the corner of her room. There, she picked up a clean glass and filled it with water. Drinking it thirstily, Sarah filled the glass up again and drank that one, too.

Her thirst finally gone, although her stomach felt more than a little funny now, Sarah made her shaky way back to her bed. It was all she could do to climb back into the bed, having to put first one, then a second leg over the edge. Finally, though, she managed to roll over onto her back into the middle of her bed. She squirmed up a little until her head landed on her pillow.

After that, it was just a matter of getting her covers untangled and back over her thin form. Still, that took her several minutes, leaving her feeling weaker than usual. Finally, though, she was mostly covered up.

Sarah tried to sleep after that, but she spent so much of her time sleeping now that she just couldn't. As she lay there in her bed, she listened to the equipment that beeped and buzzed from the other side of the room. That was where the nice old lady was sleeping.

Sarah didn't remember her grandma, her having gone to live with God before she was even born, but she'd seen pictures of the woman with a much younger version of her mommy. Mrs Evans made her think that she'd make someone a good grandma, even if she didn't have any grandkids.

The thought made her eyes water a bit. It was sad. Plus, Mrs Evans was just so sick. Even sicker than Sarah if she had to be honest.

The old lady who lay in the bed on the other side of the room was looking nearly gray these days, and she couldn't even raise herself up on her bed. Instead, she had to use the raise up thingie on the bed.

A couple of days ago, she'd even let Sarah raise up her bed during a rare moment when they both had been feeling especially energetic. Afterward, the two them had exchanged grins. Even when the nurse who'd come in later had scolded her for changing the bed, the two of them had kept smiling at one another.

Now, though, Mrs Evans was quiet, her only sounds the raspy noise of the machine that breathed for her. Sarah had the scary feeling that her friend was going to go away soon to Heaven. She didn't want her to and would miss her, but Mommy had whispered that she wouldn't hurt there and would be able to walk and feel good.

With that as an incentive, even Sarah considered going away to Heaven herself. But she would miss her Mommy, even if she did get to see Mrs Evans all of the time.

Just the thought of that made her tummy hurt even and Sarah pulled her covers over her head. For a moment, she lay there in the dark, but it was just too hot to stay like that. Pulling her covers back down just past her eyes, she froze as she saw the figure stepping stealthily into the room.

Dressed all in shades of gray, except for her black mask and gloves, the girl wore a hood that covered her hair. Sarah's eyes took in every detail of the girl's clothes, from the lighter color of her top, to the darker gray of her cloak. For just a second, she wondered if this was an angel come to take Mrs Evans to Heaven, but then thought that the girl must be a hero, like the ones on TV.

That's when the girl saw her, dark brown eyes meeting Sarah's own blue ones. She almost screamed, but there was something about the way the girl's lips curved into a gentle smile that made her hesitate. Then the girl put a finger to her lips, a familiar gesture to her and Sarah stopped even thinking about making noise, instead focused upon the girl as she stood just a few feet away

Her heart beating faster and faster, Sarah waited for her to speak.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taking a step closer to the little girl, Taylor put a finger over her lips in a gesture to be silent. She half expected the girl to start screaming at the top of her lungs, but instead she just stared at her. They both stared at one another for several more seconds.

Oddly, it was the little girl who spoke first. "W-who are you?"

Keeping her voice low and reassuring, Taylor said, "My name is Avatar. What's yours?"

"S-sarah. Sarah Billings"

Taylor smiled, and sat down next to the girl. Gently, she asked, "So, Sarah, what are you doing here in the hospital? Are you sick?"

The girl nodded firmly. "I have leukemia."

Taylor blinked at the girl's frank and forthright manner. It was what she'd thought. She could heal the little girl, but if she did, then there would be nothing left for Mrs Evans. Still, the older woman had lived a long life, while Sarah was just beginning hers. Then again, maybe there was an alternative.

Remembering how she'd thought she was getting stronger, Taylor wondered if maybe she could heal a fourth time now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sarah's soft voice. "Are you a hero?"

Projecting a calm confidence into her voice, Taylor said, "Yes, Sarah, I'm a hero. I'm here healing people."

The girls eyes opened wide again. In an uncertain tone, she asked, "Are you going to heal me?"

There it was. The question that Taylor had just been asking herself. Looking into that face with her soft eyes and trembling lips, she answered the only way she could. "Yes. I'm going to heal you."

"Will I be better when you're done?"

"Sarah, you'll be completely well. You'll be able to do all of things you were able to before you got sick and more."

Sarah's eyes were excited, then they fell onto the occupant of other bed and her smile faded. "What about Mrs Evans? Are you going to heal her, too? Or is she going to go to Heaven?"

Hedging, Taylor admitted, "Maybe."

"Why not?"

Reaching out with gentle fingers to touch the side of Sarah's face, Taylor explained, "I can only heal so many people at a time. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to heal both of you."

Sarah managed to sit up. She grabbed Taylor's hand with both of hers, her skin feeling feverishly hot. In an excited tone, she said, "Avatar, you can do it. I know you can. Please."

Staring into those hopeful blue eyes, Taylor thought that maybe, just maybe, she could do it. She pushed healing into Sarah, whose eyes looked utterly shocked at the sensations running through her body. She watched as the little girl's complexion grew pink and flushed, and her eyes brightened in a good way as health returned to her body. Even her hair grew out to a length of about four inches before stopping.

In sheer wonderment, the girl reached out with trembling fingers to touch her hair. Running her fingers through her hair, her eyes filled with tears. A second later, she lunged forward into a hug, sniffling slightly. Holding Sarah in her arms, Taylor knew that she'd made the right decision to help people. To heal this girl.

From where she was clinging to Taylor like a limpet, Sarah murmured, "Thank you, Avatar. Thank you."

Easing the girl back, Taylor smiled and ruffled her hair, which was as soft as a the down of a baby bird. "You're welcome, Sarah."

Her eyes turning towards her companion, Sarah pointed an imperious finger towards the older woman and demanded, "Now her."

Taking a deep breath, Taylor stood up and took a step forward. She gently touched the old woman and reached for healing.

At first, nothing came, but she refused to give up. Feeling Sarah's expectations beating against her, she kept trying. After a moment, it was as if the well of her ability slowly began to fill. Taylor pushed healing down into Mrs Evans, and knew she'd succeeded. She even managed to keep the woman asleep as well, though it was a near thing as her eyes fluttered briefly.

Sitting back down heavily on Sarah's bed, she drew a deep breath and released it.

"You did it! You did it!"

"Shh." Instinctively, Taylor hushed the little girl, who was almost bouncing in her bed, now filled with an excess of energy. Almost, she wished she'd put the girl to sleep after healing her, but at the last minute had decided against it.

Sarah quieted down, whispering, "You did it, Avatar. I knew you could. Now we're both not sick anymore."

"Sarah, I need you to do something for me. Can you do that?"

The girl nodded emphatically. "I can do it. What?"

Reaching to gently touch the girl's cheek, Taylor said, "I need you to not tell anyone that I was here. I don't have permission from the hospital to heal people, and they might be mad because I broke the rules. Please keep it between just the two of us."

Sarah looked like she was torn between wanting to shout it from the rooftops about being healed, and ecstatic over having such an important secret to keep. "I can do it. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Taylor smiled. "I need you to lay down and try to go to sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll just need to say you were asleep and never saw what happened. Okay?"

"Okay, Avatar."

"Let me tuck you in."

Sarah settled down into her bed, her head back on her pillow. Taylor gently tugged her sheets up until they covered her completely, tucking the edges around her neck and shoulders. She whispered, "I have to leave now, Sarah. It was nice to meet you."

Sarah, who was already starting to look sleepy, said, "Nice to meet you, too, Avatar. Thank you."

Feeling the prickle of tears in the corners of her eyes, Taylor whispered back, "You're welcome, Sarah." She hesitated, then getting kissed the girl on her forehead, whispering a benediction against her skin, "Live a long and fruitful life, Sarah."

Then she was back on her feet and heading to the door. Listening, she realized the coast was clear. Opening the door, she headed toward the stairs. Once inside the stairwell, Taylor made her way to the roof, then across and back down to the parking lot.

Running back down Lord Street, Taylor reflected upon what she'd done that night. Because of her, four people were going to survive, hopefully to live long lives, at least in two of the cases. The other two, the older man and old woman, were likely limited by their age if nothing else as to how much longer they lived. But at least they would have a good quality of life in whatever time they had left.

Making her way out of the hospital using the same route she'd used to get in, Taylor knew she'd sleep well, knowing that she'd managed to save four lives.

Later, when Taylor lay her head on her pillow, it was as if she could feel just the faintest of connections to Our Lady of Mercy. Closing her eyes, she knew that could have unerringly pointed in the direction of the hospital no matter the circumstances. It remained to be seen what, if anything, this strange feeling actually was. For now, it didn't worry her nearly enough to keep her awake.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Hannah walked into the hospital, noting the presence of PRT troops at the main entrance. Behind her, the sun was just beginning to top the horizon and a handful of rays followed her through the doors and into the hospital, filling the dingy space with a vestige of beauty.

Crisply, she asked the nearest trooper, "Where are the victims?"

The man, name and face familiar from having met at similar scenes, nodded to the door to the right. "Through there, ma'am. Uh..."

Cocking her head inquisitively, Hannah asked, "What is it, Trooper Harris?"

The young man fidgeted a moment, then said, "I'm not sure we're dealing with victims here. I mean... they're the opposite of hurt or injured. And the little girl's family..."

"Understood. However, the reasons for our isolation procedures lie in the dangerous variety of Parahuman powers out there. Unfortunately, too many of even the beneficial ones have side effects, many of which are truly horrific. So we're going to go by the book on this."

"Understood, ma'am."

Nodding back at him, Hannah headed through the door and into the room. There, she surveyed the scene.

Even a hospital as poor as Our Lady of Mercy had an isolation ward for potential victims of Parahuman contamination. It was part and parcel of maintaining a health facility in this day and age. Of course, where Brockton Bay General had a large room broken into much smaller rooms constructed of a clear, Tinkertech plastic with piped in air and separate waste facilities, Our Lady of Mercy's facilities were a great deal more primitive.

The room Hannah had stepped into less than half the size of Brockton Bay General's, divided more or less evenly between the observation area and partition where the victims stayed. The material dividing the two areas was thick glass, but hardly proof against even a determined adult armed with something he could use to club through the material.

The isolation ward, in order to prevent just that type of behavior, did not have a single item that wasn't bolted down. Everything, from the chairs to the beds to the one small television behind its heavy metal mesh, was designed to be as immovable as possible.

Hannah looked at the people who were either standing or sitting in the room, then glanced at the sheet of paper in her hand. Apparently one of the residents here had been especially forceful about seeing someone 'in authority'. Quietly, she called out, "Robert Brighton?"

The man, who had been standing quietly talking to a younger woman, walked over to stand in front of Hannah. Dressed in a hospital gown with a robe over it, Robert Brighton looked both excited and angry. Despite how he was dressed, what he did not look like was that he was suffering from cardiac failure.

He blurted, "You're Miss Militia from the Protectorate! I want to protest how we've been treated! None of us are criminals! Or any kind of threat! I demand that we be released immediately!"

Hannah stood and waited as the man went on and on in the same vein, allowing the man's blustering demands to run their course. Finally, when Robert seemed to run out of steam, she quietly stated, "There are reasons we have these procedures in place, sir. Standard isolation is a minimum of seventy-two hours from date of exposure to unknown Parahuman powers. Once that period has gone by, we'll have Panacea come by and check you all out. Sooner even, if possible."

The younger woman, who had to be Paula Smith, walked over. Standing next to Robert, she asked, "Do you think we're in any danger, Miss Militia?"

Hannah hesitated, the shook her head. "Probably not. But it is better to be safe than sorry. Someone sneaked in here and used a Parahuman power on you. It clearly healed you, but it wasn't one that we have on record. We don't know what, if any, side effects there might be. So, while I encourage you not to obsess over the possibility, I do think it's a good idea to be on the look out for any changes in personality or your physical forms."

Paula nodded hesitantly, then smiled. Turning to her companion, she put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Come on, Rob, let's go sit down and watch TV. Even three days of being inside of this fishbowl being constantly watched is a small price to pay for having been healed. I mean, yesterday I was sick as a dog and didn't know if I'd still be alive next week. Now, I feel great and according to Dr Connors, my liver is completely regenerated."

Robert hesitated, then gave a grudging nod. "Okay, Paula. Miss Militia, the sooner you could have Panacea come by, the better. It would definitely do a lot to relieve our concerns."

"We'll do our best, Mr Brighton."

With that, Hannah headed back out, now looking to talk to some of the patient's doctors. It didn't take that long, as all of them had come in early to take a look at their patients' recovery. She met with them as a group and allowed them to talk at their own speed.

Dr Curtis Werner, Sarah Billings' oncologist, started out first. "Sarah was suffering from Stage Five Leukemia. She had just weeks, at most, to live. Barring, that is, Parahuman intervention. Unfortunately, that didn't seem likely, as Panacea's schedule has been beyond overloaded of late."

The man sighed, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. "When I got the call from the hospital administrator, telling me that she appeared to have been healed, I broke the speed limit to get down here. It was just after three am when I ran her latest vitals. I drew blood and should have at least tentative results by late morning, but just based on a simple physical examination, I would say that she is not only fully into remission, but recovered from all of the effects of the chemotherapy she's been undergoing. She even has some hair back, something which she went on about at some length."

It was clear to Hannah from the man's faint smile that Dr Werner was more than a little fond of his patient and happy about what had happened. The other oncologist, Dr Harold Bowman, seemed to be a little more ambivalent.

Dr Bowman quietly said, "Agatha Evans is eighty-four years old. She was suffering from late stage ovarian cancer. More than a decade ago, she had a hysterectomy, but the surgeon, for some reason, elected to leave her ovaries, something which we don't see happening anymore. That was the source of her cancer, which didn't get caught early because she refused to see a doctor until she collapsed in her home a few days ago. At that time, she couldn't even breath on her own, and was hooked up to a machine that was doing her breathing for her.

"Because she was terminal, having at best a couple of days left, I was thinking about moving her to in-hospital hospice care. However, that's moot. I checked her over thoroughly before she went into isolation and Mrs Evans is as well as a person of her age can be. I wouldn't be surprised if even her osteoporosis is gone. She certainly moves like a woman thirty years younger."

Hannah heard something similar from the other doctors. She wasn't too happy that they had all given their patients physicals, as well as drawing blood, before they had gone into isolation, but it couldn't be helped at this time. Besides, her first instinct was that this was not a villain looking to cause later misery, but a genuine case of a new cape having triggered and deciding to use their power to help others.

Hopefully, that person could be identified soon and brought into the Protectorate's fold. God help them if Empire 88 or Lung got ahold of them first. A healing power as strong and versatile as theirs would be a valuable resource to a lot of different groups and would attract a great deal of attention until the matter was settled one way or another.

For now, though, it meant a great deal of paperwork for Hannah. She'd also need to liaise with New Wave and see if she couldn't get Panacea to free up some time on her already hectic schedule to check these people.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Sarah somehow kept herself still, although something inside of her yearned to burst free and shout at the top of her lungs what had really happened and who had really saved them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the hero lady leave after talking to Rob as Paula called him. He wasn't that nice of a man, mostly ignoring her, but maybe that was because he was surprised to wake up and not be sick any more.

Avatar probably wouldn't have healed him if he was really a meanie.

She already missed the woman who had touched her and made something inside of Sarah change so completely that even now it felt like the world was a lighter, brighter place. She could feel that the something that had changed was linked to somewhere else, and had to constantly stop herself from looking off in that direction, even though all she saw were the gray, painted, cinderblock walls of their room on those rare occasions when she did give in to the yearning.

Sarah carefully squeezed Mrs Evans hand, which was holding her own, drawing a smile from the older woman. She leaned down and whispered, "How are you holding up, Sarah?"

"I... miss my mommy."

There, she'd said it. Even that bright feeling that lurked couldn't totally take the place of her mommy, and more than anything, Sarah wished they would let her see her. But they wouldn't, at least not for a few more days.

She did have Mrs Evans, who seemed to feel so much better that she had already cleaned and organized their room and the bathroom, her sharp eyes missing nothing. While she'd been doing that, she'd kept up a constant stream of mean comments about the hospital's cleanliness that had made Sarah smile nearly the entire time. She'd also gotten her to help, which had been nice as it had allowed her to burn off some of the intensity of the feeling inside of her.

The hand that had been holding hers slipped free, but then went around her shoulders in a hug. Mrs Evans leaned down and whispered, "I know that you do. Don't worry, child. I'll take care of you until they let you see your mother again."

Sarah knew what you were supposed to say to things like that. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes longer before Sarah felt the need to speak again. Born partially of that bright place, and partially from an idea that had occurred to her in their shared hospital room one night, she tentatively asked, "Mrs Evans?"

"Yes, child?"

"Can I call you Grandma?"

As Sarah spoke, she looked up at the older woman. That was why she saw the brief spasm cross her face, something which made her wonder if something had hurt Mrs Evans. Those sharp eyes turned her way and she awaited the verdict they held.

She had to wait more than a minute, as Mrs Evans carefully scrutinized her face. Finally, though, she gave a brisk nod. "You may call be Grandma _Agatha_ since I am not your grandmother by blood. Instead, it will be an honorary title."

At Sarah's confused looked, she explained, "Honorary means something earned or given because of shared experiences and affection. Since we were both here, ill, but have recovered, I would consider it an _honor_ if you called me Grandma Agatha. Understand, Sarah?"

That made a lot more sense to Sarah and she immediately nodded. Then she tested it out, "I understand, Grandma Agatha."

They shared a smile that reminded Sarah so much of the one a few nights ago when she'd raised and lowered the woman's bed. Both of them were still sitting there smiling when breakfast finally arrived a half hour later.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

The next day at school was pretty uneventful. At least until lunch, that is.

Taylor had decided to eat lunch in the cafeteria instead of bringing her lunch like she'd been doing for the past year and a half. She was heading toward an empty table when she heard her name called.

It was Greg Veder, waving and hollering, "Taylor! Over here! _Taylor!_ "

Not wanting to spend her entire lunch period trying to decipher Greg's stream of consciousness approach to speech, Taylor merely waved back and sat down at the table she'd chosen. She could feel his disappointment even from where she sat, but refused to feel guilty about not sitting with him.

Asking her to eat with him wasn't something Greg would have done even a month ago. Only because Taylor had turned the tables on her bullies was he acting so bold. While he'd never been mean to her himself, Greg had also never defended her. That, coupled with his cornucopia of irritating habits, didn't exactly endear him to her. Or make her want to spend time with him.

No, she'd stay by herself for now. It was what she was used to and being alone no longer bothered Taylor. Unfortunately, someone else had other ideas.

The first sign that Taylor had that she wouldn't be sitting alone at lunch today was when a cheerful voice said, "Hey, Taylor."

Another followed it a second later, "Hi, Taylor."

Glancing over to her right with a frown, Taylor saw the two girls that had confronted her about her cape speech the other day sitting down. While she could remember their names, she made no effort to make them feel welcome.

Not that it seemed to matter to the first girl who said, "I'm Mary Anne. That's Tara." The other girl, a blonde with long hair, waved. A beat later, Mary Anne, who was short, brunette, and curvy, continued, "So, I know your name's Taylor Hebert, but I don't really know anything else about you other than you're a sophomore."

Taylor silently raised an eyebrow. Was the girl _serious?_ Then again, maybe she was. Just because her bullying had felt like life or death to _her_ just a month ago, didn't mean that it had even registered with people two grades higher than her. Winslow was a big school, with over four thousand students. Between gangs and other things, maybe bullies just weren't that big of a blip on the consciousness scale.

Certainly she couldn't remember ever even noticing the other two girls, although their faces were vaguely familiar, likely an effect of her power.

Feeling the pressure to speak steadily mounting, Taylor finally said, "Not much to talk about. Not exactly a big fan of school. I was getting bullied pretty bad just a short while ago, but two of the girls who were doing it got caught and expelled."

Now it was the blonde girl, Tara's, turn to frown. "I heard something went down by the sophomore lockers. That was you, huh?"

"Oh yeah."

When Taylor wasn't more forthcoming, Mary Anne shrugged and said, "Here's the deal, Taylor. Tara and I are both looking to score scholarships so that we can go to college outside of Brockton Bay. We've got good grades, but those aren't enough. You need extracurricular activities as well. And it doesn't hurt to be successful at them, either. Since neither of us are exactly athletic, we went with Debate."

Raising an eyebrow, Taylor finished her bite of meatloaf before asking, "What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, the Debate Team this year is pretty weak. Okay, the truth is they suck. Except for us, that is. But we need three people on a team. So we could use someone like yourself to round us out. So, Taylor, what do you think about joining the Debate Team?"

Taylor shrugged. "Not sure what I think, to be honest. I've never done debate. I'm not even a hundred percent sure what exactly it is."

Tara pounced on the crumbs. "That's fine. Basically, debate is arguing for or against an issue. Kind of like how you did the other day in your World Affairs class. Although usually the issues we get aren't quite so gray if you know what I mean. We even get to go on trips occasionally and debate against other schools."

Taylor nodded along at that. That kind of made sense. "What would I have to do? I mean, how much time does it take? My schedule's pretty full right now."

Mary Anne quickly spoke in a reassuring tone, "Just an hour after school three days a week and maybe a couple of hours on the weekend. It might be a little longer at first, but only two hours at most. Oh, and when there's a meet, you'll need to plan to be gone from school that day, or if it's on a Saturday, all day. We ride to those in a school vehicle, usually a bus, along with the other teams that compete in other stuff, like chess, number sense, science, and so forth."

Taylor sat there, considering what to do. Her first instinct was to say no, but she immediately suppressed it. Would be it so bad to join in a school activity? Would it take away from time with her dad or trying to help people?

She couldn't see how that it would. Danny didn't get home until at least five most days, so she'd still be home well before then, with time to fix dinner as well. Being gone the occasional Saturday wasn't a big deal, while having the occasional day off of school was something to look forward to.

Taylor couldn't see how it would be a problem with her helping people either. Most of that had to happen at night, if for no other reason than they wouldn't let heal if they knew she was coming. So before she could reconsider, she opened her mouth and said, "Okay, I guess I can join you."

Mary Anne grinned and gave a fist pump. "Excellent. Meet us after school today and we'll go over how everything works. Maybe we can do something to celebrate after."

Just like that, Taylor found herself joining a school activity. And just maybe, making two new friends, as neither Mary Anne nor Tara showed any inclination to leave after talking her into joining them. Instead, the rest of the lunch period was spent gossiping about boys, clothes, and TV shows.

Or rather, the two senior girls gossiped and Taylor mostly listened. After having been a pariah for a year and a half, she found that she was a little behind on pretty much every topic the other two girls brought up. But that was okay. Just listening to the other girls, while giving the occasional smile and nod, was enough. At least for now.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Walking into the house, Taylor called, "Hey, Dad, I'm home!"

"Hey there, kiddo. How was school today?" Her dad asked as he looked up from where he was making something that looked mostly like stew. His eyes looked bright and alert as they quickly took in her appearance, although his brow tightened into an unconscious frown.

Refusing to feel self-conscious at the appraisal, Taylor shrugged. "Pretty okay, actually. Sorry I'm late, but I went shopping after school."

"I can see that." Danny's tone was neutral as he took in the tight jeans Taylor was wearing as well as the form fitting sweater.

Smiling wider, she tossed her backpack and a couple of bags of clothes on the kitchen table and did a quick twirl. "I met some girls today and we went out after school. Actually, we went out after we finished going over some debate stuff."

Aha, she thought, subject successfully changed from her outfit to something else. Looking puzzled, her dad asked, "Debate? You mean like speech or something?"

Taylor nodded. "More or less. Basically arguing issues. Tara and Mary Anne got me to join their Debate team. After we went over stuff, we started talking about high school n' stuff. Eventually, we got to the subject of my growing a little out of my clothes, so we went shopping."

Danny frowned, then nodded decisively. "How much did you spend? I'll reimburse you."

Realizing that telling her dad that she bought the clothes with money that she'd stolen from the ABB would be a really bad idea, Taylor merely nodded. "I'll add up what I spent and let you know. It wasn't too bad. We bought everything from the clearance table."

Getting a skeptical look back, she defended herself. "I mean it. The regular stuff in the stores is already set for spring, as in, lots of short dresses, shorts, and tank tops. So sweaters, jeans, and other fall and winter clothes are already either on sale or clearance."

Taylor walked over and tasted the stew her dad was making. Frowning a little, she added more salt and pepper, then some powdered garlic and onion. Finally, she sprinkled in a little cayenne pepper. Looking up, she saw the amused look on her dad's face. Huffing slightly, she retreated from the pot.

Remembering that there was some French bread left over from yesterday, Taylor quickly split the half loaf down the middle, then lightly buttered each half and sprinkled it with powdered garlic. Turning on the oven broiler, she waited a moment, then stuck the bread directly under the element.

"Hungry?"

Taylor felt a little selfconscious for the first time. She admitted, "What with running every morning and eating in the cafeteria where the food's charitably described as 'edible', I'm feeling pretty darn famished."

Danny nodded. "Make sure you eat enough food, Taylor. I know you're trying to get in shape, but I don't want you to get too thin. The fact that you can fit in those jeans is evidence enough of just how much weight you lost."

"They're not any tighter than what the other girls wear to school."

"I know."

"I mean, if they can- wait, what?"

Her dad had a glint of amusement in his eyes as he said, "I know that most girls wear things like that. Actually, the day I was in your school, I saw a lot worse than that. _A lot worse._ " He shuddered slightly before continuing, "So I am fine with what you have on."

Just when Taylor felt a sense of relief at not having to defend her wardrobe choices, her dad finished by saying, "But. Nothing any tighter and I reserve the right to veto anything that shows off too much skin."

"Okay." Taylor stood there a moment, then hugged her dad tightly. "Thanks."

Looking puzzled, Danny asked, "For what?"

"For putting up rules about what I wear to school. For asking about my day. For caring." As she spoke, Taylor felt her eyes prickle as she pushed down tears. Something which her dad's next words only make harder.

"I always cared. Even when I didn't do a very good job of telling you. I'm just glad I have my head out of my... err... rear end and let you know. I love you, Taylor. Never forget that."

"I won't. I love you, too."

Giving him another hug, Taylor grabbed her stuff and headed upstairs. She quickly put the other jeans she'd bought in her closet, hanging them next to the ones that were simply too short. Then she put the tops she'd bought next to them.

Touching one that was in royal blue, she involuntarily smiled as she remembered Tara's insistence that it would look good on her. Holding the top on its hangar in front of her and looking at herself in the mirror, she knew the other girl was right.

Glancing over to the corner of her room, she asked, "So what do you think?"

Unfortunately, if her staff had an opinion, it was keeping it to itself. Still, there was an undeniable sense of anticipation coming from Umrahnuha, as if it somehow understood that they were going out again tonight.

Taylor knew that she didn't dare go back to the same hospital tonight, but there were other hospitals in Brockton Bay. And there were plenty of people on the street who probably weren't well either who could use her help. So she'd spend some time ministering to the sick and needy. After that, if there was time, maybe she'd spend a little time fighting crime. Assuming, that is, there was any crime to fight.

Whistling, she headed downstairs to grab the bread out of the oven before it burned.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor forced herself to utter stillness as the ER nurse came back into the room. The teenage boy who a few minutes ago had been bleeding from a gunshot wound lay on the gurney next to her. He just happened to be completely healed now versus possessing a perforated abdomen earlier.

It was a hectic night in the emergency room of Cedar Bay General, Brockton Bay's second largest and busiest hospital. Apparently there had been a shoot out between members of the ABB and the Merchants, which several innocent civilians caught in the crossfire.

Taylor might have tried to do something about it if it hadn't already been over before she headed out at midnight. So instead, all she had to deal with was the aftermath.

Case in point: Cassidy Williams, seventeen years old and a resident of forty-fifth street, not far from the territory claimed by the ABB.

Taylor had no idea why the boy had been out this time of night, but it was more than possible there had been a girl involved. Cassidy hadn't had any drugs in his system beyond a faint trace of something that seemed relatively benign, but he had had a few obvious marks on his neck.

Blushing at the thought of just how the good looking boy had gotten the marks, she'd healed him of all three conditions, as well as correcting for his nearsightedness and asthma. Cassidy was currently as well as she could make him. Now all she had to do was see if she could find another patient before a nurse, doctor, or security guard found her.

The ER nurse, seemingly only now noticing that the boy was no longer bleeding, made an exclamation of surprise, and after quickly checking the boy's bloody shirt, headed out of the room at a run. Taylor did the same thing, moving at a rapid pace as she hurried out the room and into another.

A quick glance told her that the patient this time was a gang member for the Merchants, both his colors and obvious signs of drug use giving it away. Deciding that she needed to be charitable even to those who might not deserve it, Taylor placed a hand on his body and both healed him and purged him of the drugs in his body. Continuing to push more healing into him, she closed her eyes in concentration as she twisted the flow of healing ever so slightly.

Pulling back, she hurried out of the room as if she were being chased. What she might have just done troubled her. She wasn't sure, but there was a chance that she might have just made the Merchant gangbanger immune to the effects of the drugs that had been in his system.

On the one hand, that might drive him to experiment with other drugs. However, it might give him the impetus to get clean. Or it might not have done anything at all.

Another healing later and Taylor headed out of the hospital. It had gotten increasingly frantic inside the ER as the other two people she had healed had been discovered. After police officers began a room to room search, she knew the jig was up and needed to get out of there.

As she raced down a pristine corridor toward the exit she'd already marked out, Taylor had to freeze again as a security guard came out through a door ahead of her. She watched as the large, heavyset man glanced both ways down the corridor, then grabbed the walky talky that was part of his uniform.

"Ten four. This is Jensen over in the administration wing. Negative for intruders. I repeat, negative for intruders here."

There was a crackle of static over the speaker, then a woman's voice came on. "Understood, Jensen. Assistant Administrator Jacobson asked if you could finish your sweep of the area, then come back to help with escort duty for the three affected."

"Ten four, control. Jensen over and out."

Taylor stood absolutely still as the man rolled his eyes, muttering, "Bureaucrats."

Then he walked right by her as he headed back into the hospital, checking each and every door to make sure it was locked as he went by them.

A moment later, she was outside and putting distance between herself and the hospital at a rapid pace. She had to briefly duck down behind a line of cars and almost crawl as she came into sight of a police car, its siren silent, but the lights on its overhead bar flashing, painting her surroundings in shades of blue and red.

Taylor took to the roofs as soon as she could, wanting to make sure she couldn't be traced by something like the dog creatures that had tracked her the night of the casino heist. Once she was a mile or so away from the hospital, she took to the streets again.

As she cleared the Downtown area, Taylor decided to do a short patrol. It was still relatively early, after all, and she wasn't even slightly tired. She'd make a quick circuit through the area nominally claimed by Empire 88, then up through the Docks before heading home.

As she paced down yet another alley, the city lay more or less quiet around her. There was a couple of car alarms that were barely audible to even her sensitive hearing, but from the faintness of their sound, they were miles away. Everything else seemed fairly quiet.

Well, except for the slight murmur of voices coming from ahead of her. Hurrying along, Taylor ran three blocks at breakneck speed, then drew herself up as she stopped to listen.

"Come on, man, leave it alone."

The voice had a faint whine to it, as if the speaker was incapable of expressing himself forcefully. Not so the person who answered him.

"No. You chickenshits can run home, but I'm going to find out if the sonuvabitch is pure. Or if he needs to be stomped for being in the wrong part of town."

The third voice was aggressive as it stated, "Fuck it. Fine then. Let's do it."

Peeking around the corner, Taylor could see three figures rapidly overtaking a fourth who was pushing a heavily loaded shopping cart. She ran forward, her steps almost silent even to her own hearing as she rapidly caught up to them. As she ran, she cataloged the details of the people in front of her.

The nearest three were all boys, each of an age with her, perhaps a year older at most. They were dressed in blue jeans, and simple teeshirts and jackets, appropriate for the weather. They should have been ordinary. However, everything about them screamed Empire 88, from their shaved heads to the various symbols written in magic marker on the knuckles of their hands which were visible as they walked rapidly along.

Taylor was still a half block back when the largest of the three, a husky boy well over six foot, caught up to the homeless man. Grabbing him by the shoulder, the boy spun him around, demanding, "Stop right there, old man. Where do you think you're going?"

The homeless man, who Taylor's eyes easily identified as Caucasian even with all of the dirt coating his skin, cowered. He stuttered, "I-I didn't m-mean nothing. I was j-just looking for a place to bed down."

As the light from the listless street lamp above them shone on the man's face, even the three boys could now see that he was white. The one who had grabbed him initially, released his grip on the man's shoulder. Awkwardly rubbing his hand over the back of his shaved head, he said, "You shouldn't be out here at night. It's not safe. Look, there's a shelter over on Twenty-third and Elm. The three of us will walk you over there."

The homeless man, who seemed relieved that he was going to get beaten up, cautiously asked, "The three of you? What about that guy over there?"

Of course, he was pointing straight toward Taylor, who continued to step boldly forward as her presence was revealed.

The members of Empire 88 spun around, their fists clenched at their sides defensively as they sized her up. Their bravado took a step back in favor of caution, however, as they noted her costume. As Taylor continued to walk forward, the first boy raised a cautionary hand. "This has nothing to do with you. We were just helping this guy find a shelter."

"And if he'd been black?" Taylor's question hung in the air between her and them, before receiving three succinct answers.

One boy muttered, "Fucking niggers."

Another gave her a narrow-eyed look as he asked, "You a nigger lover?"

"We would have done something else."

The last response was from the largest of the boys, who appeared to be the leader of the group. Not taking her eyes off of him, Taylor walked through the group, making sure to stay aware of the movements of each of the boys using her heightened senses. She stopped next to the homeless man.

"Sir, are you all right?"

The man looked flabbergasted at being addressed by the honorific. Taylor could see how life had beaten the man down as she studied his gaunt face. There were deep lines carved into the corners of his mouth, likely put there by brutal necessity. His skin was pale, and he was shivering slightly in the cold wind that prowled through the alley, stirring up trash like unquiet spirits. His eyes, though, were the worst, barely coherent as they showed a lack of clarity which was more than a little alarming

Still, he sounded almost normal as he said, "I'm good. No need to worry about me, ma'am."

There was a sound behind her, more felt than heard, but Taylor still spun around. The smallest of the boys had pulled a knife from his pocket. All four of them stared hard at him, before he sheepishly stuffed it back into his pocket. The leader of their group rolled his eyes. "Jesus, dude, grow a pair. She'd not going to do anything to us."

"And why's that?"

He gave her an assessing glance, containing equal parts calculation and assurance. "You're a hero. Or at least acting like one. You didn't catch us doing anything wrong. So there's nothing you can do to us."

Oddly, his tone wasn't cocky as he laid down the rules as he understood them. To make matters worse, he was right. Unless she wanted to beat up three teenage boys, one of whom Taylor now recognized from her own classes, there really wasn't anything she could do to them. So she did the next best thing.

With a sound like the very sky itself splitting open, Taylor called down a lightning bolt that impacted an abandoned dumpster that was turned on its side a little further down the alley ahead of them.

The dumpster almost exploded as its substance was simultaneously melted and torn asunder. Molten droplets of steel rained down around them, but by sheer luck, didn't hit anyone there. All of the males around Taylor reacted in a variety of ways.

"Mother of God! Please, God!"

"Aaahhhh!"

"Fuck! Fuck! Motherfucker!"

"No no no no no no no no no no..."

Exclamations aside, their actions varied even further. The first boy dropped to his knees almost crying, as he actually started to pray. The second boy, who had pulled a knife earlier, did the same thing again. Or tried to. He fell over onto his side, tripping over his own feet, as he struggled to pull the same knife from the pocket of his jeans.

The leader, who had been the only one to curse, stood there trembling as Taylor approached him. Leaning forward, she said in a low voice, "Hurting people because their skin is a different color is stupid. I won't tolerate it. Don't let me catch you out here doing that again. Understood?"

He nodded, jerkily, all his earlier reassurance gone. Backing away, he dragged his two compatriots back to their feet, all three of them breaking into a run. In a moment, they were gone.

Taylor turned back to the homeless man who was watching her through wide unfocused eyes. As she approached him, he eyed her with enough wariness that she almost flinched. Instead, she said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'll help you get to the shelter they were talking about."

His rheumy stare was skeptical as his eyes slid from her, to the dumpster behind her, then back. His adams apple moved jerkily up and down as he said, "I'm not sure I want you to. You didn't have to do that to those boys. They weren't going to hurt me."

"Because you're white."

The words hung between the two of them like a wall. After a moment, the man nodded uncertainly. He observed, "So are you."

"True. But I don't hurt people because I hate them for being a different color. I didn't even hurt those boys. What I did do was warn them that there are consequences to what they're doing. Consequences that will only grow as they get older. The world's too small and crowded to let hate for others rule you."

"You're right, but you scared us."

Taylor shrugged as she slipped off right glove. She had no problem accepting the man's judgment. "I understand."

Taking the man's hand, and ignoring his slight flinch, she pushed healing into him, a host of small afflictions and one big one fading away as if they'd never existed.

Trembling, the man stammered, "W-what d-did you do?" His eyes, which had been strange and distant, now seemed so much more alert. They were also focused intently upon Taylor's face, as if trying to discern some kind of secret.

Matter of factly, Taylor stated, "I healed you. You're probably going to be hungry and sleepy soon, so let's go find you a place to spend the night. Okay?"

Mutely, the man nodded.

The two of them walked in companionable silence for several minutes down the back alleys of the city, the only sound the squeaking of the wheels of his shopping cart. After roughly half an hour, they emerged from another alley to find the shelter in question just a half a block away, its exterior brightly lit.

Taylor gave the man's shoulder a gentle shove toward the doorway. "Go ahead."

The man, who seemed so much more aware now than he had earlier, asked in an uncertain voice, "What about my cart and all my things?"

Studying that awareness, Taylor made an observation of her own, "You're not going to need that stuff anymore. Get some food and some sleep. Tomorrow, you'll know what to do."

Uncertainty faded in the man's eyes. He took a step forward, then spun back around. There was almost desperation in his voice as he firmly stated, "My name is Arther Murray. I just wanted you to know that."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr Murray. I'm Avatar. I wish you the best."

Giving Taylor a sharp nod, Arther spun back around. He walked with quick steps up to the shelter's doorway. A moment later, he was inside, out of sight.

Taylor stayed in the mouth of the alley for a moment longer. Finally, though, she headed off. If she was lucky, maybe she could find another homeless person or two to help. As she moved, she thought about what she'd done.

Healing Arther had been different. His body was filled with small aches and pains, ranging from something that was likely arthritis to problems with his teeth and gums. But that hadn't been the man's main problem.

Instead, his biggest problem had been with his mind. There had been something almost fractured about his psyche, as if his mind had been hit with too large a hammer at some point in the past, breaking off parts of it, and splintering the rest.

Taylor had healed that along with the rest, although she'd been uncertain how he would react to his sudden return to sanity. During their long walk together, though, she figured out that Mr Murray was going to be fine. Even in the cesspool that Brockton Bay had become in the last decade there were still programs that paid people to get retrained in a different job field.

That more people didn't take advantage of it was something that was hard for her to understand until her dad had explained it to her. Danny had let her know that it was pride that held men back from accepting what felt like charity to them. In many ways, it was pride that was choking her city now, whether it was the stubborn pride of a dockworker or the malignant pride of a crime lord.

Taylor didn't know a way to overcome that pride, to make her city a better place. At least, not yet. But she'd figure it out. If nothing else, she would continue making the world a better place, one person at a time.

~~~~ATotD~~~~


	9. Chapter Nine: The Power in Symbols

**Chapter Nine: The Power in Symbols**

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Emily Piggot forcibly repressed an intense groan as her back ached abominably from her erect posture. However, she would not admit weakness, especially in front of these people. Plus, she had meetings throughout the rest of the day after this first, early morning one, so there was no point in giving in to the pain. Using a feedback techniques taught to her as a young trooper in the PRT's SpecOp forces, she pushed the pain aside and got to work.

To her right sat Armsmaster, while to her left was Miss Militia. Assistant Director Resnick sat one seat down from Miss Militia, a series of paper folders in front of him. With one final glance at the report in front of her, Emily decided to start the meeting.

"Miss Militia, if you will begin?"

The woman, her face mostly obscured by her flag-themed scarf, began speaking, only the faintest of accents audible in her voice, "At approximately 0100 hours on January seventeenth at a local hospital, Our Lady of Mercy, there was the use of a Parahuman power upon four citizens: Robert Brighton, Paula Smith, Agatha Evans, Sarah Billings. Each... victim was either terminal or near terminal. After being subjected to the use of the Parahuman's power, physically they were completely healed. Aftereffects are unknown at this time, although there were no obvious issues as of shortly before this meeting."

Deciding she needed clarification of something from the report, Emily asked, "Exactly why weren't the four of them placed into isolation immediately after the event became known? My report indicates that they weren't placed in isolation until nearly 0400 hours. That's a gap of roughly three hours."

While her mouth wasn't visible, Emily could tell Miss Militia was frowning as she said, "Apparently the doctors of three of the patients were so busy running tests on them that it didn't occur to anyone to actually enforce the protocol. It wasn't until after someone finally called the PRT and the operator asked if they were under isolation that the protocol was finally enacted."

A brief flash of empathy filled her eyes as she added, "Apparently the little girl's family was already there and between them and Mr Brighton, it was quite the chore for the hospital's security guards to get them into the isolation ward."

That was quite likely, Emily reflected. She could understand how uncomfortable it would be for a family to know their child had been affected by a Parahuman, apparently beneficially, and then put under confinement. It made the PRT look like the bad guys instead of the ones keeping everyone safe using tried and tested procedures that had stood the test of time. Still, those protocols were there for a reason, bitter experience being the teacher in most cases.

Sighing, Emily said, "How are the four victims now based upon the tests done on them?"

Miss Militia didn't bother looking down at the report before her, as her perfect memory allowed her to recall the facts there effortlessly. "Sarah Billings was completely cured of her leukemia. She shows no antibodies that would indicate the presence of cancerous cells. Equally important, there is a notation here that the slight curvature of her spine that might have developed into scoliosis later is completely absent, as well as a hereditary propensity toward nearsightedness.

"Agatha Evans currently shows zero signs of ovarian cancer. Her antibody tests have come back as well and show negative. Additionally, everything from her vision to her hearing to her teeth have regenerated to approximately the upper end of human standard.

"Paula Smith's liver shows complete regeneration, while her left kidney, which had been surgically removed eight years ago, is now present and fully functional. Additionally, her nearsightedness is gone and two teeth which had fillings are now completely normal.

"Robert Brighton, who had been in the hospital for congestive heart failure, now possesses a completely healthy heart. He received the least number of tests as his physician was not present until later, but his EKG came back fine and his cholesterol count is that of a healthy eighteen year old. Additionally, the extra weight he had been carrying around is leaving him at a rapid pace, apparently through his urine. He has already lost twenty-five pounds and it appears that he will lose the rest before whatever affected him is done."

Emily couldn't stop the frown that creased her brow. All in all, it was a rather frightening example of a Parahuman using their ability. While the purpose here appeared on the surface to be benign, there was no way of knowing just what the aftermath of this event might be. Not for the first time, she wished they could hold these people a lot longer than seventy-two hours, but the law _was_ the law.

"We've ordered a complete series of tests, as well as requesting Panacea come by and check them. In order to facilitate her tests, we're moving both sets of victims to PRT custody here in the main headquarters. She should be able to make it here by late afternoon today."

That quickly? Emily felt just the slightest sense of relief at the thought of the Dallon girl checking the victims herself. While she didn't entirely trust New Wave, with their presence outside of the Protectorate, they had one of the better reputations among independent groups of heroes. It was one that had been well earned in bloody battles against the local gangs that had been infesting Brockton Bay since well before she'd taken over as Director of the PRT here. While she wouldn't have let Amy Dallon heal _her_ , she'd still feel better for knowing that she'd seen the victims.

Noting another detail, Emily asked, "And none of the hospital staff or the victims saw the Parahuman involved?"

Miss Militia shook her head. "No. The staff, both the doctors, nurses, and security guards, were all extensively interviewed shortly after the event. The four victims have also been interviewed as well. None of them saw anything, although a couple of the nurses, both of whom have extensive experience in the ER before moving to intensive care, claimed to have a feeling that someone was nearby, but when they looked, did not see anyone."

"So, it's possible that our perp possesses a Stranger ability as well as being a Striker."

Miss Militia nodded. "That's what I took from it as well. They may have simply hidden in plain sight which was more than enough to fool most senses. The two who might have sensed something have a lot of experience working around potentially dangerous people. They likely use more than just their eyes to sense danger."

"And nothing from the security cameras?"

"Unfortunately, the only operating security cameras were in and around the Emergency Room. Our Lady of Mercy simply doesn't have the budget for security cameras in less dangerous areas, even in the ICU."

It was a symptom of the economy and environment, so Emily wasn't even that upset at the lack of camera coverage. That no one had seen the person was a bit more irritating, but it appeared that this Parahuman had a powerset particularly effective in thwarting surveillance. Deciding it was time to wrap up the particulars on the first set of incidents, she turned to Armsmaster.

"Armsmaster, can you bring us up to speed on what occurred at Cedar Bay General early this morning?"

The man nodded stiffly. "At approximately 0200 hours on January eighteenth, ER nurse Emma Taylor noticed that a teenage male gunshot victim, Cassidy Williams, was no longer bleeding. Fearing that he had died, she checked him closely, discovering that he no longer had an abdominal wound, traces of blood being the only evidence he had ever been shot. She alerted security in the belief that the boy was a Parahuman, but it was quickly discovered that this was not the case when two other victims were discovered shortly thereafter that had also been healed.

"A search of the hospital discovered nothing. Cedar Bay did at least place the victims within their isolation ward in a timely manner. Initially, the hospital indicated that there was no footage of whoever had sneaked in and done this. However, when I reviewed every frame of the video from every camera, I discovered this."

Emily leaned forward in interest as the large flatscreen monitor on the side of the conference room opposite of her seat came to life. There were several seconds of video showing a white corridor that belonged to Cedar Bay General, then without any fanfare, a figure appeared in the camera's view.

Armsmaster paused the video and Emily took the time to carefully study the figure frozen in frame. Dressed all in hues of gray, there was no way to easily discern the person's height. However, they were clearly thin, with long trouser clad legs showing beneath the tunic they were wearing. A gray cloak, its hood covering the person's head, flared out slightly. A black mask, black belt, and black boots completed the ensemble. The chest of the figure was pixelated for some reason.

Armsmaster spoke again. "As you can see, our perpetrator is visibly here. Watch what happens next.″

He unpaused the video, and the figure began moving again. Three seconds later, the figure stopped, then disappeared within the space of one frame and the next. Not so much as a shimmer in the air marked their presence. A few seconds later, the figure of a security guard hurried by. The other figure never reappeared.

Armsmaster reversed the video and froze it again where the mysterious figure had appeared. He quietly began to speak, ″Our perpetrator is deemed to possess some form of Stranger ability that fools both surveillance video as well as human vision. Additionally, it can be inferred that it is either of a finite duration, or the Parahuman has to actively concentrate to use it. Otherwise, there's no reason to have allowed it to lapse. Since we have no video of our perpetrator in the emergency room and there were cameras at Cedar Bay, they were clearly invisible at that time.″

He paused a second, then pulled out a handful of sheets that he passed around the table. ″Additional information that we have on the subject is that they possess greater than human strength, reflexes, and foot speed. They also possess some form of weapon or Striker ability that is also not visible to the human eye.″

He paused, clearly for effect. Emily, on the other hand, gave him a cool look as she asked, ″Exactly how is it that you know any of that information? I'm not aware of any witness statements, video records, or other information that would allow you to draw those conclusions.″

Armsmaster's face showed no visible signs of any emotions he might have felt at stumping them, but the smug look in his eyes made Emily want to berate the man. Why couldn't he just come out and say whatever it was that he had without playing games?

Fortunately, Miss Militia understood and spoke up before Armsmaster could do whatever big reveal he had planned. ″Our newest Parahuman isn't really. Instead, they are the same person as the other Parahuman codenamed Dodger. You made the connection using the material of her uniform, matching it to what was taken the other night.″

Armsmaster remained impassive, only the slightest tightening of the skin around his eyes giving away his feelings as he stared across the conference table at his second in command. It was almost enough to make Emily smile. Instead, she gestured impatiently for him to continue.

″Yes, that is correct. Not just the material of Dodger's costume, but the boots, belt, and gloves are also from the list of items taken. Additionally, our new Parahuman's body type is consistent with the descriptions provided by Aegis and Shadow Stalker. Tall and thin. Based upon the imagery on the tape, Dodger is approximately five feet eight inches tall plus or minus a half inch. If of normal human mass, they should weigh in at around one hundred and twenty pounds. The basis for the relatively light weight estimate is that after running our perpetrator through a gender recognition matrix, there is an eighty-four percent chance that Dodger is female.″

Emily pursed her lips. Now that was a surprise. She really hadn't expected the person they were looking for to be female. Nor to be so organized and effective. Next to her, Armsmaster droned on as she only gave him about half of her attention. Then something he said caught her attention.

″Wait. What was that again?″

If he was upset about repeating himself, Armsmaster showed no signs as he said, ″I said, Director, that there is also evidence that links Dodger to the robbery of the Ruby Dreams Casino just over a week ago.″

Now that caught Emily's attention. ″Exactly what evidence is that? Be specific.″

In a brisk tone devoid of any emotion, Armsmaster stated, ″Based upon witness statements, the Undersiders, who were initially credited with the robbery, were not carrying any bags or other materials when they left the casino. Neither were their steeds, in this case Hellhound's dogs, grown to automobile size. There appears to be little likelihood that they were actually successful in robbing the casino, despite the money missing from the site.″

But Emily wasn't going to be so easily convinced. She questioned, ″Wasn't Rachel Lindt recently linked to some of the marked money that our operative used within the casino? Some purchase of bulk dog food?″

Armsmaster nodded. ″Yes, two bills. However, what was not discovered until recently, probably because the BPD was conducting the investigation, was that some of that same marked money was left at the scene of the burglaries conducted by Dodger. Three bills, all twenties, to be exact.″

At this point, Miss Militia said, ″While that might be true, a handful of bills have also been discovered as far west as Indiana. It might be possible that the presence of the money is a coincidence.″

Shaking his head slowly, Armsmaster stated, ″I don't believe in coincidence. Both Dragon and I firmly believe that the presence of the money in all three locales is linked. How, I don't know. But our operative gambled using the money on Sunday. So far, through today, bills have shown up in just two locations in Brockton Bay, as well as a handful along a route heading west along I-70. Dragon and I believe that it suggests-"

Emily spoke, interrupting the man's big reveal, "The bulk of the money was sent with someone who's moving out of state. I can see how the evidence suggests something like that. Do you have any ideas for the motivation or reasons for this?"

No one spoke for a moment, then Miss Militia tentatively suggested, "Money laundering?"

Armsmaster shook his head. "It doesn't track. There was nothing to suggest to the ABB, let alone whoever took the money that there was an issue with its legitimacy. Director, if you would provide me limited access to Protectorate Thinker resources, someone like Egghead or Brilliance might be able to track down the money to a specific person or vehicle which we can then use to track down our thieves."

She stared at the man. Was he insane? Did he not realize just how much of the PRT and Protectorate's resources were spent on tracking actual _violent_ criminals and capturing them? It didn't leave much to follow up on boondoggles. Sighing internally, all Emily actually said was, "No, Armsmaster, I'm afraid that is out of the question. No point in pouring more resources down the same drain for so little return. We'll maintain our focus on Brockton Bay. For now, let's focus on getting threat assessment numbers for Dodger."

Miss Militia helpfully provided the cape's current assessment. "During a previous meeting, Dodger was given an assessment of Thinker 2, Brute 3, Striker 3, and Mover 1."

Emily pursed her lips. Those were straightforward numbers, but did appear to be a little low for the cape. She suggested, "Thinker 2, Brute 3, Striker 5, Stranger 5, and Mover 1."

There were nods from each occupied seat around the table. Miss Militia quietly asked, "No one's mentioned the fact that Dodger was somehow able to hit Shadow Stalker while she was in her shadow state. That is pretty text book for a Trump. I think we should add at least a rating of Trump 2 to Dodger as well."

For a moment, she was tempted to dismiss the idea, but finally Emily nodded. The purpose of the ratings were to judge just how dangerous a cape could be to someone seeking to take them down. If Dodger could hit others while they were using abilities that typically protected them from attacks, it was better to err on the side of caution.

Aloud, she said, "That's fine, Miss Militia. We'll add a rating of Trump 2 to Dodger to be on the safe side."

Emily was just about to dismiss them and head over to her office to get some work done before her next meeting when she decided to bring up the pixelation of the figure's chest. Curiosity in her voice, she asked, "Why isn't the video completely clear? Was there an issue with the source?"

Armsmaster shook his head, "No, Director. There's a symbol on Dodger's chest. I used the pixelation to keep it out of view. I was planning to run more... tests on it before bringing it to your attention."

Raising an interrogative brow, Emily wondered if the symbol was somehow obscene. "Have you run that symbol on her chest through the data bases to see what it means? Why not show it to us? Perhaps someone here will recognize it."

Armsmaster didn't speak, and it didn't take a genius to recognize that he appeared to be uneasy as he considered her question. When the silence continued, Emily's tone turned acerbic. "Exactly what is the problem, Armsmaster?"

"Director, I think it's premature to discuss the symbol at this time. However, since you asked, I did attempt to do a scan of the symbol so that I could run it through several different databases to see if there was any significance to it. I was unable to. Additionally, there are certain... aspects to the symbol that defy understanding."

What the hell did that mean, she wondered? Sometimes, Emily really wished that Armsmaster would just get his point across without all of the usual rigmarole. But instead of getting upset and making a bad situation worse, she merely asked, "Please explain, Armsmaster."

He made a gesture and the screen changed, this time to a blown up image of the cape's chest showing the symbol, one that was no longer completely pixelated, although it was still slightly blurred. Not that it stopped you from seeing the overall shape, but some of the lines didn't look quite right.

The more Emily looked at it, the more uneasy she grew. It was as if there was a sense of something about to happen. Not necessarily menacing, but a dangerous sense of potential. A moment later, Armsmaster changed the image on the monitor back to what it had previously shown. Almost shivering, she was shocked by the sense of relief she felt.

Looking around the room at the expressions of the people within, the Tinker nodded. "I can see that each of you felt the same thing from looking at the symbol. It was one of the reasons I showed it only in a blurred form. Unblurred, the effect is even stronger. _I_ can attest to that.

"Additionally, when the I attempted to actually scan the exact shape of the symbol into the computer, it wouldn't. What I mean by that is that none of the computer systems either Dragon or myself attempted to use to duplicate the symbol electronically were able to get any form of the image to appear at all. Instead, I was reduced to tracing a version of it by hand."

He made another gesture, and another image appeared on the screen. Emily braced herself, but felt none of the sense of menace or potential from this one that she'd felt from the one earlier, even though to her untutored eyes it appeared more or less identical.

"It _looks_ the same, Armsmaster. But I don't feel..."

He nodded once. "It does, Director. However, I can tell you that it isn't. There are certain differences, most of them incredibly subtle. Whatever power or meaning the original symbol possesses, representations do not duplicate or capture that effect. My own attempt to trace the symbol out using the video as reference, wasn't really that successful, despite how careful I was in doing so. It won't reproduce through human drawing or electronically, at least past this first, captured video image."

Miss Militia leaned forward and asked, "What about digitally? Does the hospital use digital video cameras or analogue?"

"Analogue. That is one of the oddest things about the symbol. While I could see the symbol on the original video feed, when I attempted to capture and transfer it to the digital storage I had on my suit, I couldn't get anything at all to appear."

He made a gesture and another image of Dodger appeared on the screen. It showed the symbol on the cape's chest clearly, with none of the blurring from earlier. Then the image zoomed in on the cape's chest, still clear.

However, instead of a symbol, there was just blank material, as if the menacing black shape had never existed. That blank space lacked any power to affect her and Emily could feel her tension ease as the sense of potential danger faded.

Armsmaster made one final gesture and suddenly there were two images of the symbol on the monitor, side by side. Both were unblurred, each filling up half the screen. The symbol on the right didn't affect her, but the seemingly identical one on the left made her flinch. The sensation of danger was so intense that it was all she could do not to duck under the table.

Then it was gone. To Emily's right, Miss Militia was holding a green oversized automatic pistol, her fingers white on its grip. Next to her, Assistant Director Resnick sat, pale and sweating, his eyes wild. Only Armsmaster appeared mostly unaffected, but with the image's disappearance, faint lines around his mouth eased.

Just what the hell was going on?

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor slid into her home room computer class and headed for her usual spot. Then she stopped, arrested by the sight of her teacher standing next to her desk.

Gladys Knott, who always came to work wearing pants and masculine appearing shirts, was dressed in a simple, knee-length, black a-line skirt, a dark blue short sleeved blouse, and black pumps with a small heel. Her hair was still curled from last week's perm and she wore simple pearl earrings with a pearl necklace. She was even wearing make up, lip gloss as well as a little eye shadow and mascara.

The overall effect was both softer and far more feminine than her usual appearance. While still tall and broad shouldered, she actually looked pretty.

Walking over to her, Taylor smiled widely. "Mrs Knott, you look great."

The woman's faded gray eyes looked nervously back into her own. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do. You must know just how good you look."

The woman straightened up to her full height, able to look Taylor directly in the eye because of her own slight heel. Her features relaxed into a pleased smile. Then she seemed to register just what her student was wearing. "Taylor, I like your outfit as well. Is that new?"

Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious herself, Taylor firmly pushed those feelings aside and did a little twirl. She was wearing the same tight jeans she'd bought the day before, as well as a simple long sleeved green sweater that fit her slim torso snugly. Boots with a slight heel completed the ensemble.

It was the most exposed she'd allowed herself to be since shortly after entering high school more than a year and a half ago. She'd already gotten hard, assessing looks from some of the girls who used to hang around Emma and Sophia, but none had dared do more with their bullying now unsanctioned.

"So what do you think, Mrs Knott?"

The woman pursed her lips slightly. "Don't you think those jeans are a little tight?" Suddenly she laughed slightly, as if at a joke only she understood. "Oh well, they're no worse than what the other girls your age wear. At least you don't have rips all over the seat. Taylor, you look good. I'm so _glad_."

Feeling a faint sense of relief that one of her favorite teachers approved of her new look, Taylor smiled back at the woman. She teased, "So who did you get all dressed up for, anyway?"

Mrs Knott's face colored slightly, and she momentarily looked nervous again. "No one, really. Just wanted to look good for myself."

It was odd, but Taylor's vision let her see tiny changes in her teacher's expression that made her wonder if she was telling the truth. Not that she was going to say anything to her. After all, the last thing she, herself, would want would be to get called out about liking a boy.

That was one reason why she merely said, "Well, you do. And there isn't a person alive who wouldn't agree with me."

Right then the bell range for first period, so Taylor made her way back to her seat as Mrs Knott gathered the other, more wayward, students.

A few minutes later found her surfing the net after she'd finished the simple calculator that Mrs Knott had assigned the more advanced students. Ordinarily, she'd take a moment to work on using the C++ she'd learned from one of the books on computer programming she'd read to write a far more complex program, but today she wanted to check the PHO Forums.

It took just a moment to log on, then Taylor settled herself down to reading. She made mental notes on the various capes from Brockton Bay, looking for anything new on the villains, especially regarding their powers. It didn't take long, though, for her to realize a couple of things.

First, that there really wasn't any new information on her city's villains since the last time she'd checked. And second, there _was_ a thread on a new cape in Brockton Bay, namely, _her._

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 **Topic: New Cape in Brockton Bay  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay ►Independents **

**► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 17, 2011:

I couldn't find out anything about the cape from my sources in the PRT. There's a different new cape called Dodger, who had a run in this past weekend with a couple of Wards, but nothing about one dressed all in gray. I'll be posting a thread on Dodger later.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on January 17, 2011:

Well, if she's attacking people, we need to know more about her now.

 **► Heimdallson** **(Original Poster)**

Posted on January 17, 2011:

****ing A. The bitch attacked me and a couple of friends the other night when we were just out minding our own business. That's what we should be talking about. Not about those pansy Wards who aren't even pure!

 **User received a ten day suspension for this post: 1) Don't insults others. 2) Racist language and attitudes will not be tolerated. 3) Don't keep bringing up the same points over and over again especially after you've been warned not to.**

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 17, 2011:

Great, now we can't ask the guy for more details. Oh well.

Although, based on what he's already put on the thread, the guy doesn't really know much other than he was 'attacked' by her while minding his own business.

 **► Chrome**  
Posted on January 17, 2011:

Any ideas on a name for the new cape? Maybe Phantasm?

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 17, 2011:

It's taken by a cape out in Calgary. Plus, I don't think it really describes the powers that guy described. Shooting lightning bolts is a pretty nasty powerset to say the least.

 **► WhedonRipperFan** **  
**Posted on January 17, 2011:

Well, I'd vote for calling them Thor if they were a guy. For a girl, though, I'm stumped.

 **► Bagrat** **(Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
** Posted on January 17, 2011:

I'm not exactly finding the name thing riveting. I just wish we had more information about this new cape's powers. Even if it's just shooting out lightning, being powerful enough to blast a metal dumpster into shreds is pretty nasty.

 **► Miraclemic** **  
**Posted on January 17, 2011:

Agreed. Hardly the most important topic in all of this. I wouldn't mind knowing what they're putting in the water over there in Brockton Bay that makes you guys have so many capes. I mean, really.

 ** **User received an infraction for this post:**** **1) Don't push conspiracy theories that are off topic. There are plenty of topics on this subject already started.**

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 17, 2011:

 ** **~Miraclemic**** LOL

Anyway, I'll post more information as soon as I get it from my sources. In the meantime, everyone keep a look out for this new cape. Post your pics, videos, and information here. If we get an official name, I'll petition the mods to change the thread's name since Heimdallson is clearly not going to be back for a while.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **,** **4,** **5**

Taylor stared at the posts, stunned. What the hell? How had they gotten the information they had? How much did the PRT know about her? What about the city's villains?

She took a calming breath, allowing her mind to work on the problem. Rereading the information in the thread, she realized that they really didn't know much. No real description of her beyond that she dressed all in gray, no powers beyond her calling down that one lightning bolt, and nothing about her being able to heal.

Still, it bothered her to be talked about almost as if she were some imaginary person. It made her somehow feel less real. Then she smiled as an idea occurred to her. She would show them just how _real_ she was. She'd work on the details after school.

Taylor spent half her lunch period and an hour after school with Tara and Mary Anne working on learning more about Debate. She found it interesting, but it didn't seem all that difficult, something which she'd made the mistake of mentioning to the blonde.

Tara made a face. "Then how about tomorrow at lunch I give you a subject that you create an argument for by two."

Now it was Taylor's turn to frown. "Now I'm going to think about that all night."

The girl, mischief filling her pale blue eyes, laughed. "That's what you get for dissing our passion."

Mary Anne rolled her eyes. "Our passion?"

The blonde waved her off. "Just go with it. Besides, since our first team debate is in less than two weeks, we need to get her ready as quickly as possible."

The short brunette shrugged. "You probably do need to do this, Taylor. If you do well, you can skip working on this at lunch for the rest of the week. How does that sound?"

Taylor chewed her lip. "Okay, I guess. But after this week I don't think I'm going to be able to do more than three days a week."

Tara gave her a calculating look. "Just be ready for the debate next Friday. If you do well over the next few days, you'll be the one giving the argument and answering questions."

She was actually surprised at the sheer lack of panic she felt at the thought of getting up and talking about a subject in front of an audience, including people who would judge her. It was an indication of just how much she'd changed in a short time. Although, why they would want a relative newbie giving the argument seemed odd to her. For just a moment, she wondered if this was some long term plan to humiliate her, but then dismissed the idea out of hand. It wouldn't do her any good to worry about something that couldn't be proven one way or another.

Instead, Taylor decided to simply ask. "Why have me do it, though? I mean, I'm a rookie so why wouldn't one of you do it?"

A flash of something passed over Tara's face, then she explained, "Taylor, you look smart. You're pretty, but not _too_ pretty. The glasses really work for you, too. Let's see. What else? You're tall, which is great. Makes you more commanding. You have a nice voice. Oh, and you argue well. I can attest to that."

Was the girl serious? From the look in her eyes, she appeared to be. Taylor sent Mary Anne an inquiring look which made the girl laugh. "Yeah, I know. It shouldn't matter, but the reality of the situation is that the argument is only half the battle. Since people are judging us, how we come across matters more than you might think. I admit that I can be a bit abrasive on occasion, something that's cost us debates in the past. Tara, on the other hand, is blonde and pretty, which means that she doesn't get taken seriously. Even when she makes great points, they aren't taken as seriously as they should because she looks like Barbi."

The other girl rolled her eyes, although the faintest of shadows there confirmed Mary Anne's analysis. "Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome."

Taylor put up her hand. "Look, I don't mind giving arguments if you think it will work. But I give you fair warning. It's not something I've done before, so if I suck..."

Tara squeezed Taylor's shoulder reassuringly. "You'll be fine. By the way, if I haven't already mentioned it, I really like the outfit you wore today. Those jeans look great on you. Can I pick them or what?"

After that, the discussion degenerated into girl talk for several minutes, something which Taylor actually found enjoyable. Still, as soon as the clock hit three thirty, she headed off. Rather than ride the bus, she jogged home, setting a hard pace and getting there far faster.

On the way, she picked up a newspaper that showed today's date, as well as a disposable phone with a camera function. Once home, Taylor grabbed her costume, including her body armor. After putting everything in a bag, she headed toward her hideout.

Once inside, she changed into her costume and headed out with the newspaper. It didn't take long to make it to the Boat Graveyard. There, Taylor took several pictures of her holding the newspaper in front of one of the ships that actually had its name showing, the _Commonwealth_. Then she took a couple more holding a large piece of concrete over her head. In one, she stood balanced on one foot on a metal post sticking out of the ground while holding the concrete over her head.

Heading back to her hideout, Taylor changed back into her regular clothes, then caught the bus downtown.

It was easy enough to get a computer at the public library and to pull up Parahumans Online. Taylor created an account there using the name 'Avatar2011'. She briefly reviewed the pictures she'd taken and selected two as she thought about what to say.

It didn't take her long to start typing

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Arthur knocked on the plain, unadorned door leading to the Dockworker's Union office. He heard a muffled voice, which he couldn't quite understand. Deciding that it was likely the person had said, "Come in," he opened the door and walked inside.

The man behind the desk rose to his feet and walked around to shake his hand. "Danny Hebert."

"Arthur Murray."

Danny made a quick gesture. "Sit down, Arthur. What can I do for you?"

Arthur gave the tall, thin man time to sit back down before answering. "The job placement office sent me over. They said that you had contract work available?"

Danny gave him a shrewd once over and Arthur was conscious of exactly how he must appear to the man. Short and slight, with shabby, patch-worked clothes, he was no one's ideal employee. At least he was clean, having taken a shower at the shelter that morning. And healthy, from whatever it was that the girl from last night had done to him. But he had nothing else going for him, including the lack of a work record since losing his mind after his daughter's death five years ago.

"Can I see your paperwork?"

Arthur silently handed it over. Then he waited as Danny read it. Finally, the other looked up. The same shrewd look was in his eyes. "Tell me, Arthur, why should I hire you? I've got ten other non-Union guys wanting the three spots I've got open. Why you instead of one of them?"

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't know, Danny. Maybe you shouldn't hire me. I've just recently recovered from a traumatic event in my past and I'm trying to get my life back track. I will work hard for you, but I don't know if I can do more work than someone younger and fitter. But I'm smart and don't give up. People used to call me stubborn, something I admit to."

Danny smiled wryly. "Well, at least you're honest. Arthur, I do have to ask exactly what happened to you to make you go off the rails for five years?"

Staring at the other man, Arthur almost rose to his feet to leave. He wasn't sure he was ready to talk about this yet, despite the forced recovery of his sanity at the hands of Avatar. But he'd known that the gap in his work history was going to cause questions. Meeting Danny's eyes, he noted the expression there, an understanding look that spoke of dealing with his own demons.

Slowly, with frequent stops and starts, Arthur began telling Danny about his former life. About his ex-wife. And about Jenny.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Lisa had been reading a recent thread on a mystery cape, as well as another one on someone that the PRT had labeled Dodger. She smirked as she realized that she was probably the only person in Brockton Bay who knew they were one and the same. Well besides the girl in question. Moving to the last page of the thread, she caught a new name added to the list of people viewing the thread at the bottom of the page.

Applying her power to the situation, her eyes widened as she realized what was about to happen. That realization sent her fingers flying across the keyboard.

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 **Topic: New Cape in Brockton Bay  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay ►Independents **

**► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

I would like to point out that taking anything that Heimdallson said earlier at face value is a bad idea.

 **► all_seeing_eye** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

Agreed. Besides, every one of you is wrong. This cape is not who you think she is.

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

 **~all_seeing_eye** I am curious how you know that the person being talked about in this thread is a she. Also, what do you mean by not who we think she is?

 **► all_seeing_eye** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

Actually, I'll let her take it from here. Go ahead, Avatar.

 **► Avatar2011**  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

Hi, my name is Avatar. I'm pretty sure that I'm the person who the creator of this thread was upset at. I did run off a group of boys who appeared to be wannabe members of Empire 88 while I was out the other night. I didn't attack them, however. I just wanted them to go home. Which they did.

I've included a couple of pictures of myself so that you know that I'm who I say I am. **Link1** , **Link2** **.**

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

 **~Avatar2011** Well, that addresses my first concern, which is whether you're legitimately a Parahuman or not. Are you a hero or villain?

 **► Avatar2011**  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

Hero. I'm doing my best to help people.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

 **~Avatar2011** Oh my God! That picture of you holding that piece of concrete over your head one handed is so cool! How strong are you? Heimdallson said you're a girl. Are you cute? I can't tell from the picture you posted. It doesn't show any of your shape.

 ** **User received an infraction for this post:**** **1) Do not request details of a cape's identity. 2) Asking about someone's 'shape' is borderline creepy. Keep it classy, people.**

 **► WhedonRipperFan** **  
**Posted on January 17, 2011:

 ** **~Avatar2011**** Welcome to PHO, Avatar. I have a million questions, but the first one I want to ask is did you really use a lightning bolt to blow up a dumpster?

 **► Chrome1** **  
**Posted on January 18, 2011:

 ** **~Avatar2011**** Welcome, Avatar! Good to have you on PHO. I hope you stay on and answer at least some questions about yourself. That is, whatever you feel comfortable sharing.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **,** **4** **,** **5** **,** **6** **,** **7** **,** **8** **, 9**

 **Topic: New Cape in Brockton Bay  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay ►Independents **

**► Miraclemic** **  
**Posted on January 17, 2011:

 ** **~Avatar2011**** Welcome aboard PHO, Avatar. I also liked the picture of you holding up that piece of concrete one-handed. What did that weigh, btw?

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

 **~Miraclemic** Real smooth way to ask how strong she is.

 **~Avatar2011** Is Heimdallson's comment about you being female accurate? I won't ask about the rest as it sounds like a racist rant. Also, how do you know all_seeing_eye because they kind of predicted you posting? She's kind of the board's know it all, if you know what I mean.

 **► Avatar2011**  
Posted on January 18, 2011:

Thanks for everyone's welcome. I'll try to answer some of your questions before I have to head out.

 **~WhedonRipperFan** I did. In hindsight it may have been overkill. On the other hand, it made an impression on Heimdallson at least. Maybe he and the others won't be so quick to run around late at night looking for minorities to assault.

 ** **~Chrome1**** I'm not sure how much I'll share, but so long as it doesn't reveal who I am, I don't mind sharing some things.

 ** **~Miraclemic**** As far as the concrete's concerned, maybe four hundred pounds? I won't say whether that's light or heavy, though.

 ** **~Bagrat**** I am female. I like the outfit I chose because I'm not really comfortable with some of the things that I've seen other capes wear. I can't comment on all_seeing_eye and how I know them.

I have to head out now. It might be a few more days before I post again. Don't go crazy, but I'll try to read all of the posts then and reply to a few of them if I can. Bye for now.

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Lisa stared at her computer screen, occasionally hitting refresh as the thread she was reading exploded over the next few minutes. So Avatar had finally come out in public. And she couldn't look more different.

Her new costume was a far cry from the one that she'd worn when they'd first met. That one, clearly home made, had made Lisa completely underestimate her even after being taken down. At least, that is, until the other cape had blown apart two of Bitch's dogs with bolts of lightning called down from a clear sky.

This one, on the other hand, was clearly well designed and sewn by a skillful hand. Lisa didn't really need her power to see the body armor the girl was now wearing underneath. Well, at least that meant the girl wasn't bulletproof, whatever other powers she might have. Not that she had to be that worried about guns when she could blast you with lightning bolts from an equal distance.

Lisa had to admit that she was a little surprised that Avatar had used the same effect to scare off a trio of Empire 88 wannabes. Not just that it had been overkill, as her own reply stated, but that it was dangerous to boot. A few seconds later, her power supplied some of the details.

 _Minimal danger to those present. Manipulation of probability reduced possibility of injury to near zero._

 _Bolt not used as terror tactic. Purpose of lightning bolt's purpose was to provide emphasis to speech, likely warning about changing attitudes to others. Doesn't believe in racism._

Lisa pushed her power down before it could start going off on tangents. She didn't have enough basic information to draw any more conclusions. If she continued to try, all that would happen would be that errors would build up more and more until it told her that the sky was purple and filled with little pink dragons.

What did concern her was the presence of yet another power displayed by the other cape. When she'd told Brian and Alec about why Avatar might have chosen her name, she hadn't been completely serious. It was as much because she wanted to keep the girl as a personal project to investigate as much as it was to protect her group from Avatar or vice versa.

Now, she was beginning to wonder just what the real situation was. She was beginning to suspect that it might actually be not that far from reality.

Ticking off the powers she'd seen the other girl show so far, Lisa mentally noted that she'd so far shown herself to be a Brute, Thinker, Striker, Mover, and Blaster, as well as a Shaker and a Trump, something which she hadn't realized until well after the casino robbery. Her power had told her that the strange invisible club Avatar had used on her would almost certainly affect other capes as well, no matter their powers. How much it might affect someone like Alexandria remained to be seen, but even _she_ would feel it, despite her invulnerability.

Shaking her head at the girl's laundry list of powers, Lisa looked at the pictures that Avatar had posted of herself again. The girl had mostly kept her cloak pulled tightly around herself, keeping many of the details of her costume out of sight. However, there was just the slightest hint of something visible where the cloth gaped in the silhouette shot of her standing on the post, holding the piece of broken concrete and rebar over her head.

Wondering if it was the same kind of odd symbol that her power hadn't been able to make heads or tails of the last time they'd met and unable to control her curiosity, Lisa downloaded the picture and opened it in Photo Viewer. Then she magnified the image, trying to make out more details.

Something which seemed to be working as she could now see the tiniest bit of a dark curve at the edge of the figure. Aware that her heart had started to beat a lot faster for some reason, Lisa pushed her power for answers.

 _Cloak and tunic made from same material, reinforced cottonite weave. Boots are-_

Lisa pulled her power away from the superfluous details of the other's costume and once more focused it upon the gap that might be showing just the tiniest bit of that symbol.

 _Embroidery done by hand using black thread and a Heritage stitch. Symbol..._

 _Symbol..._

 _Symbol #%* &!#%._

Lisa cursed a blue streak.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Working on yet another incremental improvement in his halberd, this one involving with increasing the perceived mass of its grappling hook upon impact, Colin frowned as a chime drew his attention to the communicator by his work bench.

Noting the name of the person attempting to contact him, his lips drew up in the corners into a smile. Tapping the screen, Colin okayed the call. "Dragon, what's going on?"

The woman's face on the screen before him was that of a someone approximately thirty years old, neither pretty nor ugly, instead being somehow arresting in a subtle fashion. Even though the face pictured there was almost certainly a digital rendition, Colin had known the other Tinker long enough to both wonder at what she really looked like, and to not care all that much, as he liked her more than most of the people he knew.

Of course, it was quite possible that he was one of Dragon's few friends, the woman's crippling fear of going outside making her a shut in whose only contact with others was via communicators like the one she was using now. Certainly she never mentioned others in more than a passing fashion during all of the hours that they'd spent working together or just talking.

The woman on the screen smiled briefly before her features grew grave. "Colin, have you been following the newest thread on Parahumans Online? The one on Avatar?"

Frowning briefly, Colin shook his head. "No, I haven't seen it, nor am I familiar with a current Parahuman with that name. Wasn't there an Avatar in Seattle in the late nineties?"

Dragon nodded. "Yes. That Avatar died on 2001 in a fight with the Brotherhood. Another Avatar took the name in 2006, but disappeared in 2008. This would be the third to use the name and they're located in Brockton Bay."

Colin's brows rose in surprise. He turned toward another another monitor and typed rapidly on the keyboard in front of it. Scanning the thread in question, he began to frown. By the time he was finished, he was scowling.

Turning back to Dragon, he asked, "Are you familiar with a recent trigger going around and healing people here in Brockton Bay? We were calling her Dodger after a run in she had with two of the Wards."

Just like he had, the woman on the screen before him appeared to looking elsewhere a moment. Then she turned her attention back to him. "So this Dodger is Avatar."

He nodded brusquely. "Yes. And it appears that they are a Blaster in addition to all of the other abilities that we've assigned them."

Briefly, Colin rubbed the bridge of his nose. Pushing back the fatigue that pressed in on his mind, he said, "At least they claim to be a hero. And that they want to help people."

Dragon nodded. "True. So far, other than the run in with the Wards, which appeared to have been orchestrated by Shadow Stalker, their activities appear to well on the heroic side."

Frowning, Colin dismissively said, "Not that heroic. They should not have healed anyone until it was determined that their ability doesn't carry any secondary effects. What if all of those 'healed' become slaves to Avatar? She could become the next Heartbreaker. Or worse."

In a chiding tone, Dragon said, "That does not appear likely, Colin. While I do think you should be wary of a new cape, there's no point in creating problems out of nothing. From what I read, Panacea will be checking the people who were healed in a few hours. At least wait until them to draw any conclusions."

Deciding that what Dragon had said was fair, Colin agreed. "Fine. Although I do wish that we could bring Avatar in for a debrief as well as have her go through training on her ability so she knows proper protocols."

Dragon looked amused. "Admit it, you won't be happy unless Avatar joins the Wards. However, if she hasn't done so before now, the odds become lower that she will at a later date."

Colin nodded. What Dragon had just said was certainly true, but what she hadn't specified was that one of the reasons that there was a reduced chance of an independent hero joining the Wards or Protectorate after a certain point lay in how few independents survived on their own past the first ninety days. It was a depressingly small number.

Even smaller was the number of survivors who didn't turn to crime or other shadowy activities as a way to pay for their activities. While he couldn't prove it, he believed that Avatar had already done so, robbing the Ruby Dreams Casino just days before. She definitely had broken into all of those businesses. It wouldn't be such a big step from doing those things to robbing a bank, although her gesture of leaving money at the site of the break ins was at least somewhat mitigating.

Sighing, Colin said, "I'm going to have to contact Director Piggot with all of this, as well as write up a report."

Dragon frowned, her eyes focused upon his face. In a voice full of concern, she said, "Don't work too hard, Colin. You need to take at least some time to rest. When was the last time you slept?"

Colin considered a moment, then admitted, "The day before yesterday I took a three hour nap. Don't worry, Dragon, I'll take another nap later this afternoon after I complete the report for the director. I do want to be awake for Panacea's debrief. I'll talk to you later."

Barely giving Dragon time to say goodbye, Colin cut the feed. Hopefully, Director Piggot could just read the report and wouldn't need him to spoon feed it to her in the form of a verbal discussion. That way, he could provide himself with another three hours of rest, which he considered the optimum amount of downtime.

Glancing back at the PHO thread and shaking his head, Colin began typing his report.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor walked from the bus stop toward her house, glad to be done for the day. After all, she planned to go out again that night, to work on her abilities if nothing else. Although a gnawing whisper at the back of her mind seemed to ask why not heal more people? After all, how could that be anything less than a good thing?

Walking along, Taylor felt so light, almost as if she were floating. Was this what it meant to be happy, she wondered?

Ever since the morning when she'd stubbed her toe on Umrahnuha, life had taken a strange turn. Becoming a Parahuman, while not something Taylor had ever expected, was something that had changed her life for the better.

It wasn't just the physical abilities either. Taylor knew that her confidence had taken a turn for the better. She was fairly certain that even if she were still having to deal with Emma and Sophia on a daily basis with no one to back her, she'd do it a great deal better than she'd ever done it before.

She was stronger now, a better person than the Taylor Hebert who had grown to hate herself and distrust the people around her, just wanting to be left alone. That Taylor was gone, vanished in the fires of rebirth.

The Taylor she was today was smart, happy, and healthy. She took joy in the joy of others. And she'd help others every single chance she got.

Case in point: Taylor was now walking past the driveway of Mrs Fillipy's house. There was a car in the driveway that almost certainly belonged to her son, William. She didn't even take a moment to deliberate, but instead walked up the sidewalk to knock on the door.

The man who opened the door looked tired, faint lines at the corners of his eyes. There was a blank look on his face for a moment, then his expression cleared. "Taylor, right?"

Holding out her hand, Taylor introduced herself again. "Taylor Hebert, Mr Fillipy. I just wanted to check to see how you're doing."

Looking bemused as he shook her hand, William Fillipy said, "Ugh... call me William. Mr Fillipy was my father. I'm doing pretty good, all things considered. Err... what can I do for you?"

Taylor shrugged. "I saw your car in the driveway and thought I'd invite you to dinner with my dad and I. Nothing fancy, but I'll probably fix Shake n' Bake pork chops and mashed potatoes. Maybe a salad."

William looked tempted and finally nodded. "Sure. I'll be there. Uh, which house is it again?"

Smiling widely, Taylor said, "Three houses down. The gray house with teal trim."

"Right. I'll be there around... is seven okay?"

Taylor nodded. "Perfect. I'll see you then, William."

Heading toward her house, Taylor decided to call her dad before he left work and ask him to invite Kurt and Lacey as well. Somehow, she knew that William needed people to talk to. And her dad could use a friend.

She hoped that William was considering moving into his mother's house, not selling it. She needed to remember to ask him at dinner.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Amy Dallon made it through the security checkpoints in record time, in part because she was running solo. Not having Vicki and her outspoken attitude along with her went a long way toward reducing the hoops she had to jump through when dealing with the PRT or Protectorate.

It was as if the PRT considered Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl, somehow dangerous. While her sister could be short tempered and a bit of a loose cannon, the man she'd hurt the other night a perfect example of that, she was also a sweet, wonderful person. It wasn't her sister who was the really dangerous one.

Amy wondered what all of the people around her would think if they realized that she could wipe out virtually all life on this planet with as little effort as it took to heal the average person she saw at the hospital. Everything from bioengineered plagues that could be targeted to destroy everything else alive to changing the human genome itself into something unrecognizable were all within her capability.

It was this frightening potential that made Amy put such rigid limits on herself and her power. No changes to a person beyond healing them, and no brains. These were the things that she used to keep herself in check. To reduce the temptation to play God.

Of course there was another way that she kept herself in check. And that was by volunteering her time at local hospitals, healing the people there who desperately needed her.

It was, in many ways, a thankless job as the number of people needing to be healed never seemed to come down. Amy had once figured out that even if she spent every moment while not sleeping or eating healing people, she still would never make any real headway in the number of people still requiring her services.

It was a depressing thought, and one that had weighed upon her every single day since she'd triggered.

Maybe if she hadn't been part of New Wave, with their emphasis on living without secret identities, things wouldn't have been so hard. If Amy had been able to put on a costume and go out and heal people anonymously, while being able to keep her real identity secret, she probably wouldn't feel the expectations of those around her pressing so hard upon her.

Now there was a new hero on town, one who had the very advantages that Amy wished that she had. This 'Dodger' could apparently heal, although whether the person was truly a hero was an entirely different matter, at least according to Vicki.

Dating Dean Stansfield, aka Gallant of the Wards, her sister had an in to what went on behind the scenes in the Protectorate, at least as far as the Wards were concerned. While he likely wouldn't share anything that he'd been ordered to keep secret, Dean passed an surprising amount of information to Vicki in the form of gossip. She also learned a lot from conversations with his friends, mostly other members of the Wards.

Monday after school, Vicki had gone to check on her boyfriend, who was at home still recovering from the flu. While there, she had gotten some information out of him of recent events in the city despite he, himself, being confined to his house. Apparently being sick didn't keep you from being able to talk on the phone. So Dean had found out certain things that he passed on to her.

Like the fact that this Dodger had fought and defeated two members of the Wards, Aegis and Shadow Stalker on Friday. Amy didn't particularly like the dark-themed cape and could believe that she'd instigated the combat through a sneak attack. Dean hadn't told Vicki what consequences might have befallen Shadow Stalker for her part in the fight.

What he would confirm between coughing, according to Vicki, was that Dodger was fast, strong, and hit like a wrecking ball, possible possessing some form of short range telekinesis. Her sister had seemed a bit put out by how little real info her erstwhile boyfriend had given her.

Not that Amy really cared about a new cape all that much, healer or no. She'd been more interested in how Vicki talked about having a fight with Dean, even if her sister had made up with him, requiring her to tune up Vicki's constitution to keep her from catching that same flu.

Amy forced her thoughts down as she followed her PRT minder, who lead her deeper into the facility. After an elevator ride and another short walk, she appeared to be in familiar surroundings, something confirmed a moment later when she and her escort stopped in front of a door with a retinal scanner and time delayed lock.

Walking in solo a few minutes later, Amy was greeted in a desultory manner by most of the Wards. Scanning the group in front of her, only Shadow Stalker wasn't present.

As well as the Wards, Miss Militia was there and greeted her with a smile. "Panacea, it's good to see you."

Amy nodded back. "You as well, Miss Militia. What's going on here?" She waved at the Wards sprawled around the room, most of them still looking very under the weather. The only exception was Aegis who stood next to Miss Militia.

The woman looked a bit chagrined as she asked, "I take it that you weren't informed that since you were already present here in the building, you'd be doing us a favor by healing the Wards so they could resume their patrol duties?"

Amy felt a flash of anger, but firmly tamped down on that. There was no point in her being upset with the messenger. Instead, she quirked a brow upward and said, "No, I wasn't. I'll do it, of course. But it would be nice to be asked."

Miss Militia looked relieved, as if there had been any possibility that Amy would refuse to heal the people in front of her. "Thank you, Panacea."

Over the next few minutes, Amy laid her hands on each of the Wards in turn, curing them of the flu and giving them a quick tune up. In turn, she was thanked in a variety of ways, although her favorite was Dennis' laconic, "Thanks, sweetheart."

He got scolded for that, but the words made Amy smile. The irreverent teen was one of her favorite Wards, and she admitted cutting him a lot more slack that she did most of the others. Especially Dean.

When they were done, Miss Militia led her toward the isolation cells on the next floor down. While they walked, Amy asked her some questions.

"Have any of the people healed demonstrated any adverse effects from the process? Specifically, any psychological reactions that I need to worry about?"

Miss Militia shook her head. "No, none. If anything, they're all bursting with energy, making their time sitting around especially difficult. Fortunately, Mrs Evans is a calming influence on the others."

Amy searched her memory of the brief she'd gotten. "She's the retired schoolteacher who suffered from ovarian cancer, right?"

"Yes. She also has quite a forceful personality."

Amy smiled at that. She ran into quite a wide variety of people in her healing duties, some of whom could also be described as possessing 'forceful' personalities. She doubted she'd have any problem with Agatha Evans.

A few minutes later saw them through the additional security checkpoint within the PRT building. Now they were standing just outside the isolation ward, able to see the people within. Amy counted seven people total inside. Curious, she asked, "Was there any evidence that Dodger healed a fourth person the other night, either inside Cedar Bay General or some time after?"

Was it her imagination, or had Miss Militia's expression become a bit more tense behind her bandanna at her mention of Cedar Bay? There was no evidence of strain, however, in the woman's tone as she said, "Yes. It's one of many theories put forward. If Dodger healed anyone outside of the hospital, that person has not come forward. Not yet, anyway."

Any nodded again. She noted that everyone inside the isolation ward was wearing warm ups of different sizes and hues. "Am I going to be able to just go in and check them? Or do you plan to bring them out one at a time?"

Miss Militia pointed toward something that almost looked like an air lock that took up perhaps ten percent of the room before them. "You can go in there. Once the door's sealed, we'll open the inner hatch. My understanding is that your power protects you from all possible viral and bacteriological vectors. If that's so, we'll call the people inside one at a time and give you a chance to examine them. You'll be backed up by containment foam sprayers and other devices in the event someone becomes aggressive. Does that meet your expectations of safety?"

Amy nodded, aware that if Vicki was here, she definitely wouldn't have liked it. Containment foam sprayers or not, she would have thought there was too much chance that someone could attack her while she was isolated from help inside the airlock.

Not that she, herself, was worried. The truth was that she could stop any ordinary person fairly easily using her power.

"Let's go ahead and get started."

The first person that came into the air lock was a man in his fifties named Robert Brighton. At least according to the announcement that asked him to come forward.

Politely, Amy introduced herself. "Mr Brighton, my name is Panacea. I'm here to do a quick check to make sure you haven't been compromised because of the healing you received from an unknown Parahuman. Do I have your permission to touch you and confirm your condition?"

Robert Brighton, who looked nervous but resolute, nodded. "Call me Robert. Go ahead. I still want to protest an extra day being added to our isolation because we were put in here with these others."

Since the last bit seemed aimed more at the nebulous powers in charge of things than at her, Amy didn't respond. Instead, she reached out her hand toward Mr Brighton. A moment later, he took her hand in his much bigger one.

Amy quickly searched through the man's body, while ignoring his brain other than to make sure it appeared normal She found nothing wrong with him. Which was unusual in and of itself with someone of his age and lifestyle.

Robert Brighton was in absolutely perfect health. Everything in his body, from his teeth to his joints and circulatory system were in tip top shape. Even his vision was better than twenty twenty.

The man shifted uneasily. "Am I okay?"

Nodding reassuringly, Amy said, "Yes. Actually, Mr Brighton, you're in perfect health. It says in my brief that you smoked. Is that correct?"

"Yes. I've been smoking since I was a teenager. Which is weird. I haven't had a single moment since I woke up the other night where I've craved a cigarette."

"Well, your lungs are in perfect shape so don't worry about that. Actually, your entire body is in perfect shape. How do you feel?"

Releasing her hand, Robert stood up straight. He admitted, "Actually, really good. I mean, I'm bored out of my skull right now as well as worried about my used car business. But I _feel_ great."

He almost seemed to want to add something else so Amy asked, "Was there something else you wanted to ask about?"

Shifting uneasily from foot to foot, Robert nodded. "I... err... the thing is, I've been feeling these urges since I woke up the other night. Err... I'm not sure that I can talk about this to a sixteen year old girl."

Amy could feel a slow flush creep across her face. From her reading of the man's body, she had a pretty good idea of what he was asking about. After almost forty years of smoking and its accumulated effects, not having that affecting you would tend make one's sex drive spring back with a vengeance, even in someone in their fifties.

Aloud, all she said was, "It's perfectly normal. Eat healthy, get plenty of sleep and exercise, and you can do whatever your... urges want. Okay?"

Looking almost comically relieved, Robert nodded. "Thanks." Then looking up, he said in a challenging tone, "Hear that? I'm fine. How about letting us out early for good behavior?"

With that, he exited and Amy waited for the next person. A teenage boy, he was in perfect health, as was the next person. And the next. And the next.

It wasn't until the retired teacher, Agatha Evans, stepped inside, that Amy really registered any of her patients again as individuals. Using her standard rote, she said, "Mrs Evans, my name is Panacea. I'm here to do a quick check to make sure you haven't been compromised because of the healing you received from an unknown Parahuman. Do I have your permission to touch you and confirm your condition?"

Agatha Evans sniffed. In a forceful tone, she said, "No, you do not, Miss Dallon. I want to know more about what you'll be doing. Are you going to be making changes to my body or my mind when you're doing whatever it is that you're doing?"

Amy tried to ignore the fact that Mrs Evans had called her by her real name, instead of the name of her costumed alter ego. It wasn't relevant, after all. Instead, she merely answered the woman's question.

"Mrs Evans, I will not be making any changes to you whatsoever. All I'm doing here is doing a general check up to make sure that you weren't adversely affected by being healed."

Mrs Evans fixed her with a steely glare that Amy thought that a fair number of villains could learn from. Then she gave her a sharp nod. "I give you permission to do a general check to make sure I haven't been adversely affected by the kind soul who healed me."

Amy almost winced at that, but managed to control her reaction. Instead, she held out her hand, which Mrs Evans took in a firm grip.

Checking the older woman's health, Amy would never have realized that the other was over eighty if she hadn't known ahead of time. Mrs Evans was also in perfect health, at the upper limit of human potential. Like all of the others, everything from her vision to her teeth to her joints was absolutely perfect. In a young person, it would be a bit unusual. But in someone eighty-four years old, it was beyond weird.

Amy was pulled from her reverie by a sharp voice. "Well? How am I doing?"

Releasing the older woman's hand, Amy said, "You're in perfect health, Mrs Evans. You have nothing to worry about." She hesitated, then added something which she'd been thinking about for a while, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-"

Sniffing again, Mrs Evans interrupted Amy before she could get her apology out for not being able to get over to the hospital where she'd been a patient. "I could have told you that. I haven't felt this good in years. Probably since shortly after I was your age, young lady."

Her expression momentarily softened just the tiniest bit. "I want you to know that I don't blame you for not being able to heal me. I literally can't imagine having the kind of power you have, the responsibility. It must be absolutely crushing. You shouldn't be too hard on yourself, dear. Enjoy your youth while you can. Try to be happy. And try to take joy in helping others, in knowing just how important you are to a great many people."

Amy nodded numbly as the woman exited the air lock after giving her shoulder a squeeze. She almost didn't register the next person coming in until a high voice piped, "Hello, my name's Sarah. Are you really Panacea?"

Blinking rapidly to push down tears, Amy nodded rapidly at the darling looking little girl who stood next to her, her short blonde hair looking almost like a halo. "I am. It's nice to meet you, Sarah."

The girl plopped down in Amy's lap trustingly. "It's nice to meet you, too! Terry didn't think you were really coming, but I told him that you were. He's all sneery on the outside, but kinda nice when you get to know him. Are you going to do something to us? Can you change my hair to pink? I would love pink hair. Or green! That's my _second_ favorite color."

Trying to tune out the little girl's chatter, Amy managed, "Do I have your permission to check you out, Sarah?"

Big, blue eyes stared guilelessly into hers. "Yes. The pink hair-"

Shaking her head firmly, Amy said, "No pink hair." Then in a conspiratorial tone, she added, "Maybe we can make it a little longer, okay? If you're good."

Eyes huge, Sarah nodded rapidly. "Okay!"

Technically, she hadn't had to ask as Sarah's parents had already given written permission for their daughter to be checked out. It didn't take long for Amy to examine the girl using her power.

Sarah was in perfect health, zero signs of leukemia. As a matter of fact, there were no signs of any potential diseases inside of the girl. Eerily, it almost seemed as if her genetic make up had been somehow adjusted ever so slightly so that she was now immune to almost any of the issues that affected a majority of the population. All but a rare few, that is.

It was just another characteristic of the healing she was seeing. Healing that seemed to so total it made her wonder how it was accomplished.

Dodger couldn't be another biokinetic. The healing ability being demonstrated seemed to affect everything about a person, even the fillings in their teeth. How they could make such extensive changes without using any form of biomass was something that Amy couldn't fathom.

But there was one thing that her ability could do that the other's clearly couldn't. With casual ease, she made the tiniest change in the girl in front of her and soon long blonde hair soon fell past her shoulders.

A moment later Amy winced at a shrill scream went off next to her ear. "You did it! My hair is fixed!"

A quick, crushing hug and the girl was gone, running over to Mrs Evans, twirling around and chattering excitedly. Amy rose to her feet, finally done, and heading over to the door. She waited as the door behind her clanged shut. There was a moment as she was subjected to a series of Tinker-style disinfecting procedures. Finally, though, the door in front of her opened.

In front of Amy were now two people in costume, Armsmaster having joined his second in command. He was the first one to speak.

"Panacea, what have you learned?"

Deciding to be upfront with the Protectorate, Amy took a moment to organize her thoughts, then began speaking, "The first thing that you need to understand is that I don't know _how_ this person is healing people."

Amy added several more details, until finally, an hour later, she was done.

Stretching, she decided that it was time to head over to the hospital for three hours. Oddly, she felt a great deal better about that task than she had just a couple of hours ago. Almost smiling, Amy Dallon climbed into the PRT van that would take her to Brockton Bay General.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Arriving home, Taylor called her dad, then set about making dinner. She frowned a moment in consideration, then decided that they did have enough pork chops for six people. Her dad had said he'd invite Kurt and Lacey, but that he was going to bring a new hire by as well.

She didn't really mind, as one more wasn't really that big of a deal. She did find it interesting that there was enough work that they'd actually hired at least one new guy. Maybe things were looking up for the Dockworkers Union.

Setting about washing and peeling potatoes, she had a bit pot of them cut up and boiling a short time later. Then she put the pork chops one by one into the plastic baggie of Shake n Bake seasoning. Giving each of them a quick shake to coat them, she set them on a sheet to go into the oven.

Once done, Taylor decided to go ahead and make a quick salad as well. She found using a knife was a lot easier than it had been a month ago. She had the entire salad made within just a few minutes, all of the vegetables within cut to equal size.

Actually, it was almost too perfect. Taylor reached in and deliberately pulled a few things out and hacked them slightly to keep it from looking so symmetrical. She realized that she'd done the same thing with the potatoes, but at least those would be mashed. And no one would notice that each pork chop was perfectly coated with its seasoning.

Deciding that it was just another weird aspect of her power, Taylor whistled as she finished getting dinner ready.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

William walked up the cleared sidewalk and up onto the front porch. His feelings were neutral as he noted that the house could probably use a new paint job. Then again, so could his mother's.

Or rather his, now.

Shaking off the sudden burst of sadness, he knocked on the front door. A moment later, it opened and a woman stood before him.

Before he could speak, she called over her shoulder, "It's him!"

Fighting a sense of bemusement, William stood there quietly as the woman, a slim, attractive brunette in her thirties, gave him a critical once over. Then she smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry. I don't know where my manners are. Come in. I'm Lacey. You must be William."

"William Fillipy. It's nice to meet you, Lacey. Are you Taylor's mother?"

A familiar flash of emotion crossed the woman's face, one that he'd seen in the mirror all too often of late. Shaking her head, she said in a much quieter voice, "Actually, no. It's Lacey _Werner._ My husband, Kurt, and I are friends of the Heberts. Taylor's mom... passed away a couple of years ago. So you might want to not bring that up."

Numbly, he nodded and followed Lacey as she led him inside. Looking around the house, the décor was one of comfort and projected a sense of being lived in. Additionally, there were still signs of the past holidays in the form of a wreath and Christmas stockings hung over the fireplace. It gave a sense of whimsy to the room.

William continued to follow Lacey as she led in through a doorway and down a short hallway, their steps clattering slightly on the wooden floors. They exited into a medium sized kitchen made smaller by the number of people inside. Counting the two of them, there were a total of six people inside the room.

William received a quick greeting from a brown haired blur as she slid around him with casual grace while holding something which smelled quite appetizing. Then he stopped before a person who he figured must be Taylor's father, the resemblance striking.

Tall and thin, with shrewd eyes and a quick smile, Danny Hebert smiled as he said, "It's nice to meet you, William. Danny Herbert."

William shook Danny's hand, aware of the firmness of the man's grip. "It's nice to meet you as well, Danny. Thanks for inviting me to dinner."

Grinning, Danny said, "You're welcome. Although the person you should thank is Taylor, since she made dinner. I see that you already met Lacey. This is her husband, Kurt."

Kurt was a bear of a man, both taller and broader than Danny, who squeezed William's hand with careful strength. Blue eyes looked out at him from under a shaggy mane of blonde hair. "Nice to meet you, Kurt."

"Nice to meet you as well... William, is it? Or do you prefer Bill?"

Smiling in self-deprecation, William said, "Actually, you can call me Will, if you want." He could already tell Kurt was one of those people who felt compelled to shorten people's names and that was the least obnoxious of the nicknames he'd had over the years.

Kurt nodded. Then he turned to the last person in the kitchen. "You should meet Arthur as well. Will, Arthur. Oh, and he goes by the whole shebang, no 'Art' or anything like that."

William quickly shook the hand of the short, slight man who'd been almost lost in the presence of the other two. He noted with curiosity the threadbare, patched clothes and thought there was a story there. Especially since the man appeared intelligent and educated. Not that he was going to ask. He'd wait to see if the subject of the other's background came up. Instead, all he said was, "It's nice to meet you, Arthur..."

Arthur's voice was clear and quiet as he said, "Arthur Murray. It's nice to meet you as well, Will."

William was just about to mention his last name back when Kurt, almost a force of nature, thrust a beer into his hand. "Here you go, Will. Taylor says dinner's almost ready. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Taking a cautious sip, a gesture he saw echoed by Arthur, William said, "It smells great."

A voice called out from the other room, "Thanks!"

Deciding to make small talk while he waited, William asked, "So what do you do, Kurt?"

The big man shrugged, "I'm a dockworker. That is, when there's work. Although lately, it's been decent. We even hired a couple of new guys, like Arthur here."

Deciding not to comment on the odd idea of the small, quiet man doing such a physical job, William started when Kurt asked, "How do you earn a living, Will?"

"I work for the PRT."

Sudden curiosity sharpened the eyes on him. It was Lacey, though, who asked, "Like a cop?"

William almost snorted at the idea of him going out as a trooper and walking around in all of that armor. Shaking his head, he said, "No, actually, I'm on the administrative side of the organization. I'm like the assistant to the assistant of the Assistant Director of Providence. More or less, that is."

Kurt nodded knowledgeably. "Middle management. I get ya. Taylor! How's that food coming along, girlie?"

The girl in question appeared in a different doorway than the one that William had come into the kitchen through wearing a severe frown. "It's almost ready, but if you want it to be good you're going to have to be patient. You can't rush perfection."

"Fine, fine. I'm just starving over here."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Dad, control your minion. Also, no more beer for either of you until you've eaten. I'm serious!"

With that, the girl disappeared.

William was amused to notice the identical looks of chagrin on the faces of the two men. Catching Lacey's eye, he silently asked for the story. Amused, she snorted, then said, "These two idiots got drunker than skunks this past New Year's Eve. After I drove Danny home, he... well, let's just say he got a bit ill. Taylor ended up having to clean things up. So she's a bit down on drinking."

Taking a long pull of the beer in her hand, Lacey grinned mischievously. In a low voice, she said, "Of course, I'm the one who drank them both under the table, something which Taylor doesn't know."

"I heard that!"

Now there were three people wearing looks of chagrin in the room. A moment later, Taylor swept back into the room and called out, "Dinner is served."

The next hour passed almost in a blue for William. The food was excellent, if simple, and he ate his fill. He also had another beer conscious of the critical eye of his hostess.

The conversation around him mostly concerned the state of jobs in the city, dismal, according to Kurt, as well as the relative danger posed by the local gangs for the dockworkers, minor, according to Danny.

It surprised William and made him ask, "Are the local gangs really that harmless? I got the impression from reading reports and the news, that Brockton Bay is a pretty dangerous place these days."

Surprisingly, it was Taylor who answered him. Shrugging, she said, "I wouldn't call it dangerous. I mean, if you go out late at night in certain areas, you're risking life and limb. But most of the time, in most areas of the city? No more dangerous than anywhere else. I mean, I go running alone every morning around the Boardwalk. I take pepper spray, but I've never had to use it. Or even seen anyone acting anything other than normal."

Danny smiled at his daughter, but William could see the shadow of concern in his eyes. "Taylor's mostly right, Will. The gangs don't really bother most people that much. Even though the Merchants supposedly claim the Docks as part of their territory, they leave us alone."

"Because we'd kick their mangy asses if they bothered us!"

That was Kurt, who by his manner, appeared to sneaked at least one or two beers past Taylor.

Danny gave him a shrewd look as he asked, "I'm curious as to why you're asking, Will. It's not for your job, is it?"

"No, it's actually about my mother's house. I inherited it from her. I was considering transferring here and moving in, but I don't want to take any chances. You see, my wife's pregnant with our first child back in Providence. She'd a bit leery of Brockton Bay as well. But it's hard to pass up a quality house like the one where I grew up. In Providence, we have an apartment, but it costs an arm and a leg and is tiny."

Danny shrugged. "You could always sell the one here and use the money to buy another house in Providence."

William nodded in acknowledgment. "I could. I looked into it, but property values aren't that great around the neighborhood. Plus, I grew up here, so I hate to sell it. There's an opening in the Brockton Bay PRT so I could transfer, plus Karen mostly does freelance bookkeeping and income tax returns, so she can work anywhere. It just comes down to safety."

Kurt grinned. "You definitely need to move here, Will. She can do our taxes. Right, Lacey?"

The brunette shuddered. "Definitely."

William had been giving more and more thought to moving to Brockton Bay lately. He had to admit that the things he'd seen hadn't been nearly as bad as what he'd expected based on the news reports he'd seen. Of course, he knew that news reporters tended toward exaggeration and hyperbole, but still...

Surprisingly, it was Taylor who spoke next. The slim girl, who'd started clearing the table, despite Lacey's protests, stopped a moment. Turning toward William, she said, "I think you should really consider moving here, William. Brockton Bay's a great city full of wonderful people. It's weathered hard times, but I think we're over the hump. Things are only going to go up from here. Adding people like you and your wife are just of the good."

There was a surprisingly mature look in her eye as she added, "Besides, no place is truly safe. But as long as you have great people like the ones here looking out for you, how can you go wrong? After all, isn't the people around us that makes a house feel like a home?"

William felt the girl's words strike him almost like a blow and almost shook his head to clear it. On the other side of the table, Danny Hebert gave his daughter a look of intense pride. Next to him, Both Lacey and Kurt looked surprised, but pleased.

On the other hand, Arthur seemed as taken aback as William himself. He excused himself from the table with a quiet, "Be right back."

William wished he could do the same, but the others were still talking to him and trying to convince him that he needed to move to Brockton Bay. Not that he actually needed any more convincing. Taylor's words had added impetus to his indecision and he'd apparently reached a tipping point.

William was going to move to Brockton Bay. He was going to raise his family in the same well built home that he'd grown up in, surrounded by reminders of his parents. Now all he had to do was convince Karen.

Maybe, he mused, he should bring her here and have her talk to Taylor? Then he inwardly grinned at the idea that a teenage girl could convince his wife of something so important.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor crouched above the edge of the roof, staring down at the battle on the streets fifteen feet below. She'd gone by each of the hospitals, but all of them had been patrolled by guards dressed in the armor of the PRT and armed with odd devices which were almost certainly some form of Tinkertech as well as containment foam sprayers.

Rather than risk detection and a possible confrontation with the authorities, Taylor had opted instead to go out into the city and patrol. She'd focused the entire time on maintaining her invisibility, something that had apparently worked as she'd passed numerous people, both while moving and standing still.

So it was true that she didn't need to stay still in order to be hidden. Whatever the power of the rune she'd embroidered onto her outfit, it allowed her to stay hidden so long as she actively concentrated on not wanting to be seen. It was a relief and a bit of a challenge as well.

Halfway through her search for people to help or crime to stop, she saw a figure lurking behind a dumpster in an alley. Rapidly approaching the person on foot, Taylor used her enhanced vision to view the figure's details.

Her heart sank as she recognized one of the boys from the other night, the one who had seemed to be in command of the other two boys. He appeared injured, although since he was mostly hidden, she couldn't see to what extent.

Approaching him as silently as she could, Taylor noted his tense body language as he crouched behind the dumpster, using it to shield him from the sight of any one approaching from the north. She waited a beat, then appeared, as if from mid air a few feet away.

It took a second for the boy to notice her, but when he finally did, his reaction was everything she wanted.

"Oh my fucking God! You!"

Scrambling back all of two feet, his back now pressed hard against wall behind him, the boy stared at Taylor with a well leavened mixture of hate and fear. Clearly, though, the fear dominated, because when she moved just the tiniest bit closer, the boy flinched away.

"Stay the fuck away from me, goddammit!"

Keeping her body language relaxed, Taylor crouched down just a couple of feet away, her hands resting on her knees as she watched him carefully. In a calm and even voice, she asked, "What are you doing out here?"

Despite her efforts to reduce the tension, the boy flinched again. "None of your fuckin' business, bitch!"

His demeanor was a far cry from the one he'd met her with just the day before. That young man had been calm and relaxed, certain of his place in the world. He'd also been certain of her reaction to his actions, confident that she wouldn't attack him.

The person before her now was anything but self assured. Instead, his eyes were wild, while an almost feral snarl pulled his lips back from his teeth. A large bruise decorated one swollen cheek, while his left arm was pressed close to his side in a protective manner. Both of his eyes were blackened, and he had blood from a split lip dripping down his chin.

Without hesitation, Taylor reached out and quickly touched his face, pushing healing into the boy. His cry of "Don't-" stopped almost immediately when the pain that wracked his body went away. His injuries disappeared and his eyes cleared. As the realization that he was no longer hurting registered, he stopped holding his side.

There was a look in the boy's eyes that wasn't exactly gratitude as he asked, "W-what did you do to me?"

Shrugging, Taylor stood up. "I healed you. How do you feel?"

Gingerly rising to his feet, the boy made a few tentative movements, swinging his arms back and forth. After a moment, he said, "I feel good. How the hell..."

Taylor rose to her feet as well and took a step back. "I can heal. What happened to you?"

Any goodwill that her healing him had generated appeared to vanish at Taylor's question. The boy's expression closed up again, and he spat, " _You!_ _You're_ what happened to me!"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Oookay, you're going to have to vague that up a little bit more. _I_ didn't hurt you. So who did?"

The boy stared at his feet for a moment, his brow creased in thought. Finally, as if the words were being dragged from him involuntarily, he grated out, "My friends from last night, as well as some other guys from school, jumped me."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because I didn't want to participate in the gang initiation that's taking place tonight."

"Empire 88 is running an initiation tonight? Where?"

He sneered. "Like I'm going to tell _you_. I already got my ass kicked and lost my friends because of you. Why the fuck would I make it worse?"

The lonely bitterness in the boy's tone was something that Taylor could relate to. After all, it wasn't all that long ago that her situation wasn't much better. "What's your name?"

He gave her cool look, but grudgingly answered, "Jim."

"Jim what?"

For a second, Taylor didn't think he was going to answer, but Jim finally said, "Stasney."

"Jim, why didn't you want to participate in your gang's initiation?"

"It's not my gang anymore!" He suddenly seemed to sag as if he no longer had the strength for anger. "I'm not a prospective member anymore. They think I'm a race traitor now. And it's all your fault."

Trying to be patient with him, Taylor asked, "How is it my fault?"

Jim rubbed a hand over his mostly bare skull, only a faint dark shadow showing where he'd once had hair. "What you said the other night, about hating others because of the color of their skin being stupid? I _heard_ you. I don't know why, but it was all I could think about since last night. It gnawed at me and I couldn't sleep."

To say she felt surprise was to totally underestimate just how much Jim's words were like a sucker punch to the gut to Taylor. When she'd said what she had last night, she hadn't expected to actually _reach_ any of the boys. It was why she'd blown up the dumpster as a way to emphasize her point.

Jim dully continued, "When I went to school today, I avoided the others. When they cornered me later about going to the initiation ceremony, I said I'd think about going. But they _knew_. That I'd changed my mind. After all, Ted and Jeff were there, too. So they gave me a beat down after school. I got my licks in, but there were seven of them. Now I can't go home because they know where I live. I don't want my parents..."

He turned to stare at Taylor. "What did you do to me? You and that... thing on your chest. It's like you made me see the world the way it is. Now I don't belong anywhere anymore."

Thing on her chest? Puzzled, she carefully traced Umrahnuha's symbol on her chest through the soft material of her cloak. Deciding to ask later about what he meant, Taylor instead reached out to lightly touch his shoulder, ignoring his flinch. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just didn't want to see you do anything that you'd regret. Or that would limit your choices for the rest of your life."

Jim laughed hollowly. "My life? What life? It's only going to get worse from here on out. My 'friends' are probably going to kick my ass at least a few more times. After all, I'm a race traitor now. I _deserve_ it."

Shaking her head decisively, Taylor firmly stated, "No, you don't. You made the hard choice to do the right thing. Following a mindless idea is easy. Stepping away from a path like that is difficult, and shows strength and character. That same strength and character will get you through this, too. A smart man once said, 'This too, will pass'. He was referring to the terrible things that had happened to him, but he understood that time heals all wounds."

Jim nodded jerkily. He muttered, "I guess I can see that." After a beat, he added, "Thanks for healing me."

He stood up straight, stretching slightly. A moment later, he admitted, "I do feel pretty good. Plus I can see clearly, which is kind of cool. Weird, though."

"You couldn't see clearly before?"

Looking embarrassed, Jim shrugged. "I need glasses to see, but I didn't want to look like a pansy so I don't usually wear them. I can't really afford contacts. I figured if I got high enough in the hierarchy, I could ask Othala to fix them."

Not wanting to spook him, Taylor carefully asked, "She's Empire 88's healer, right?"

"Yeah, more or less. I think it's more like regeneration than what you did. But it still works pretty good. But if you're not a Parahuman, you have to do a lot to earn it."

Now that he was being more open, Taylor decided to ask about what Jim had said earlier about the symbol on her chest. "Jim, what did you mean earlier, when you called the symbol on my costume 'that thing'?"

Giving her a look of wary disbelief, as if he were gauging just how serious she was, Jim finally said, "I don't know if you're serious or not when you say shit like that."

"I really don't understand what you meant by what you said."

Pointing at her chest, currently almost completely covered by her cloak, Jim said, "Whatever the hell you put on your costume, that... symbol or whatever the hell it is, it gets into a person's head. Fucks with them. At least, that's what it did with mine."

Was he joking? Studying the boy's face, Taylor could see that he appeared deadly serious. Additionally, when she twitched aside the front of her cloak as if to show the symbol to him, he reacted by flinching away and covering his eyes. "Don't!"

"Jim, I'm sorry about that. I just don't understand what's going on."

Cautiously pulling his arm away from his eyes, the boy relaxed slightly when he saw that Taylor's tunic was still covered. "You mean, that thing doesn't affect you?"

Taylor shook her head. "Not in the slightest. What did it do to you? How did it feel?"

The boy hesitated, apparently thinking deeply. Finally, he said, "It presses on you. Like a weight in your head. The entire time I was thinking about what you said, I could feel it inside of me, forcing me to decide. To make a choice."

Alarmed, Taylor asked, "It was controlling you?" If the symbol was causing some form of mind control, she'd need to remove it from her current costume, and keep it off future costumes, no matter how useful it was.

Jim shook his head vehemently. "No! I mean, it wasn't really controlling me. It didn't make me choose to leave Empire 88. Instead, it... it was almost as if it made me face the truth, no matter how uncomfortable that truth was. I don't know. I just know that it wouldn't stop pressing on me until I decided."

Jim was rubbing his head again, apparently a nervous habit. "I think it did the same to Ted and Jeff. They didn't say, but I don't think they slept much last night either. But they decided to stay in the gang, the fucking idiots. I mean, how the fuck could they ignore the truth and bury their heads in the sand? I don't get it."

"Never underestimate the capacity for people to bury their heads in the sand and pretend reality is an illusion."

Jim stared at her. "Who said that?"

Taylor shrugged. "I just did, but I'm sure there's been a ton of philosophers who said roughly the same thing. It's part of being human."

Still looking her in the eye, he admitted, "I don't know what to do."

"Are your parents... members?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. My old man would kill me if he knew. It's why I don't have any actual tats. Until I leave home I have to keep it on the down low. Had to keep it on the down low. I guess it doesn't matter now. Anyway, I can't tell him or my mom."

Taylor reached out and put a reassuring hand on Jim's shoulder, squeezing gently. It was sign that their relationship had increased by leaps and bounds in the last few minutes as this time he didn't flinch. In a quiet tone, she said, "Your parents probably care about you a lot more than you give them credit for. Go home. Tell them what happened. Mention me if you need to. But give them a chance to surprise you."

Jim nodded jerkily, then pulled away. He started walking south down the alley. Before he had made it more than a few feet, though, he turned around. "Hey! Avatar!"

Taylor had been watching him leave, so she just waved. Visibly gathering up his courage, Jim called, "The initiation is over on Baker Street between forty-first and forty-second." He hesitated a second, then added, "Hookwolf might show up."

He abruptly turned around and took off at a run, ignoring Taylor's call of "Thanks."

That meeting had led her to her current location, on the roof of a building near the edge of Empire 88's territory located approximately between the streets he'd indicated. Beneath her, were more than fifty men, split between two different gangs, Empire 88 and the ABB.

Taylor had watched as the members of Empire 88 had arrived, in twos and threes, curious to see if Hookwolf was going to show up. Fortunately, she hadn't seen anyone other than normal humans. Not long after all of the Empire 88 wannabes arrived, another group, made up mostly of men of Asian heritage arrived.

The second group outnumbered the first about three to two. Not that the dichotomy in the numbers seemed to intimidate the prospective members of Empire 88. Instead, shouts and posturing on the part of the Caucasian men below had led to an explosion of violence expressed through fists and kicks at first, later followed by pipes and knives, as well as a myriad of other weapons.

No one had pulled a gun yet, but she thought it was just a matter of time. Deciding to involve herself before someone got killed, Taylor took a few steps back, then taking a running start, launched herself over the edge of the building in a huge leap right into the middle of the fight.

She landed in a roll, bleeding off the force of her landing through lateral motion. A second later, she sprang to her feet. Drawing Umrahnuha, she used him in quick, precise strikes to drive the various combatants apart. Taylor wedged him between two fighters, one from each faction, that were in a clinch and twisted. They flew apart, seemingly farther than the force she'd applied could account for, something that she noted in passing.

Then she continued on. Making a path through the middle of the fight, she was followed by a stream of curses and vituperative comments.

Here, she stopped a pair of skinheads from kicking a downed ABB gang member to death. In another place, she took down two pairs that were fighting, sending them flying with two blows and an equal number of kicks. Seconds later, she swung Umrahnuha in a circle around her, knocking aside mostly men in the gang colors of the ABB as they clustered around a downed Nazi.

Of course, now _she_ had their attention. Stepping aside, Taylor watched an Asian man stumble by, apparently trying to tackle her. Two other men, one of Korean descent dressed in ABB colors, while the other was a brawny skinhead dressed in black and covered in tattoos of swastikas, eights, and H's, paused in their battle to attack her.

A light jab to the stomach put the skinhead down, but the Korean man stopped and pulled out a knife.

Taylor was actually surprised at the complete lack of fear she felt as she faced the armed man. Her senses completely alert, she prepared herself to react to the man's attack.

But when the attack came, it wasn't from the man before her, who was staring at her chest with an expression of almost fear upon his face. Instead, Taylor heard a ratcheting sound behind her, something that appeared to be an aberration to the battle going on around her. Spinning in reaction, she watched as a man perhaps thirty feet away, moving in what appeared almost to be slow motion, released the slide of the hand gun he was holding.

Watching the slide snap forward as a round chambered, Taylor still felt an unnatural calm even as the man's finger tightened upon the trigger. Then he was squeezing it and the gun bucked in his hand.

Not even thinking about what she was doing, Taylor instinctively swung Umrahnuha as if parrying a blow. She felt just the slightest sensation of impact, as the slug whined off to one side, sounding nothing like a ricochet from a movie soundtrack. Eyes serene, she repeated the gesture two more times, ignoring the other shots that she easily could tell weren't going to hit her as the weapon's barrel wasn't even pointing her way when her assailant fired.

The slide of the man's pistol locked back after he'd fired eight times in total. Around Taylor, the sounds of combat all but ceased as everyone turned to see who had escalated to a fire arm.

Raising her voice in a shout while brandishing a staff that no one else could see,Taylor commanded, "Stop fighting and go home! If I have to stop anyone else from here on out, I'm going to start breaking bones!"

The skinhead who she'd struck just seconds before sneered at her from his position on the ground. Still, his voice lacked real any real force despite its volume as he said, "Who the fuck do you think you are to tell us what to do? We're Empire 88!"

Projecting utter confidence into her voice, Taylor said, "I'm Avatar. I won't tell you again. The consequences are up to you." As she spoke, she turned from side to side to catch the eyes of as many of the men around her as possible.

It was strangely subtle, but there was almost a drawing away from her as she spoke. Most of the men around her were staring at her with a mixture of fear and hate, their attentions oddly fixated upon her uniform's tunic and their expressions conflicted. Clearly, Jim had been right. Then a moment later, first one, then another, began moving back from her.

Within a couple of minutes, Taylor was basically alone, only two men who'd been hit by stray bullets meant for her still present. One lay supine on the ground, groaning, while the other sat on an overturned trash can, clutching his leg as he struggled to keep from bleeding out.

She was just about to head over to heal the two men, when she heard the approach of someone behind her. A second later, a loud, booming voice made her spin around.

"What the fuck is going on here? Who the fuck are you? Did you just break up our membership fight, you fucking idiot?"

Taylor stared at the man who stood less than thirty feet away from her. Long, dirty blonde hair formed a foul halo around the man's head as he stood shirtless and shoeless before her. He wore a mask that was just a piece of sheet steel cut and shaped to resemble a wolf's head, attacked with straps of black leather around his head.

The metal theme continued in the form of a chain threaded through the belt loops of his dirty, stained jeans, sporting a heavy metal belt buckle of a wolf superimposed over a swastika. The same image was tattooed on one bicep, while another simply had the words 'E88' on it. Any other tattoos were hidden under a hirsute pelt that almost completely covered his chest and probably his back as well. Long, harpoon-like metal spears that curled like fishhooks radiated out from his shoulders, elbows, and knees, bristling with barbs and wickedly serrated edges.

All in all, it was less of a costume than it was a statement of his power. Hookwolf, of Empire 88, had come out to play.

Taylor was aware of the man's reputation. While no one had ever escaped from the Birdcage, the Parahuman prison located somewhere in British Columbia, Hookwolf had escaped twice while being transported there. He was a convicted murderer and wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who didn't fit his view of what people should be.

Keeping her voice low and even, Taylor said, "My name is Avatar. And yes, I'm the one who broke up the the fight that was going on here. I won't allow them to fight again."

Waves of menace seemed to roil off of the man before her as he took in her words. He spat, "You stupid little girl. I was just going to hurt you for getting in the way. Now, I'm going to cut you to ribbons as an example. I hope you've made your peace with _God_ , because you're about to meet him."

As soon as he finished speaking, Hookwolf began changing. From somewhere deep inside of his body came rotating, interlocked metal blades, threshing together with the clamoring sound of metal on metal. The form he assumed was almost doglike, if the dog in question was the size of a panel van. Now almost hollow, the human flesh having retreated to some location deep inside, he was just a body and limbs composed of a chainsaw blur of serrated blades, hooks, and needle-like points all shuffled and shifted seamlessly together.

The movements of the metallic elements formed a kind of rising and falling, as they spun together too fast for the eye to follow.

The murderous Parahuman stood still before her a moment, as if to press home to her the danger she was in. Finally, though, in a voice that was no longer sounded human, Hookwolf roared his hatred and rage and charged straight at Taylor.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

 **AN:** Next chapter: Though I Walk Through the Valley of Death...

Also, the next story to be updated is going to be either Railgun or A Propensity for Wrath. Both are nearly ready to go. Sorry about the delay, but my older sister had a stroke about six weeks ago and I've been taking care of her. Fortunately, she's feeling a lot better, thus my extra time to write.


	10. Chapter Ten: Though I Walk Through the V

**Chapter Ten: Though I Walk Through the Valley**

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Shouldn't she be afraid, Taylor wondered as she watched the Parahuman killer bear down on her? Using any normal definition of sanity, she most certainly should be. Yet, somehow, she wasn't.

She remembered all of the books she read on martial arts and fighting, as well as the practice she'd put in. However, none of it was real life, and while it might suffice to fight ordinary men, was there any way it could do the same for someone like Hookwolf? Somehow, she doubted it.

Then the time for thought was over and Taylor had to _move_.

She put zero thought into her movements, instead acting on instinct as Hookwolf hammered through the space she'd occupied by a moment before. Somehow, she was able to use Umrahnuha to push off from the ground while taking two steps toward the other Parahuman, vaulting up and over his head. She twisted her slim body as she went by, thereby avoiding his tail, which swung past her torso just inches away, looking like the bastard child of a spiked, bladed wrecking ball and a chainsaw.

Then she was gracefully landing on her feet and spinning around. Hookwolf, having missed her, did the same. Then he charged her again, roaring his hate and defiance.

It seemed like she had all the time in the world now to observe her foe's movements. Taylor noted the way the metal blades of his body seemed to spin and whir so closely together that they would not allow so much as a piece of paper to pass between. At the same time, cruel barbs and hooks stuck out from all over him, ready to pull in his prey in order to tear it to pieces.

Again, Taylor leaped, but landed on the back of the dog-like body, somehow finding two places that were not part of the spinning, whirling destruction. A split second later, she had to side flip off of him as spikes hammered upward from where her feet had been a moment before. Eyes narrowing, she considered her options, almost immediately coming to a decision.

This time, Taylor took the same two steps she had the first time, then leaped without the aid of her staff up onto Hookworlf's back, her feet finding two different tiny spots where spinning, whirling death was absent. She instantly took Umrahnuha and hammered it down into the depths of the Parahuman's body, trying to reach a core that her eyes had spotted on their first exchange.

Her staff was stopped short of its target, but Hookwolf's gears and blades snapped off upon contact with it, while the force of the blow sent him skidding off to one side, while she side-flipped off in the other direction, landing in a roll that she used to bleed off the momentum of her fall.

Rising back to her feet, Taylor made herself unnoticeable and waited. She didn't have to wait long.

Hookwolf rose to all fours, shaking himself like a wet dog, the broken pieces within him spraying outward like droplets of water, to be immediately replaced with fresh bladed death. His head darted from side to side, visibly searching for her. When he didn't immediately find her, he cursed, "Goddammit! You coward! Come back and fight me!"

Deliberately, Taylor pushed her voice out from her, making it as strong and passionate as she could. Eerily, it had an echoing effect, as if coming from more than one place. "I don't want to fight you."

There was an audible sneer in Hookwolf's voice as he shot back, "Too bad, bitch. You should have thought about that before you got yourself involved in Empire business. Now you're going to _bleed_."

Why didn't he understand, she wondered? Trying to make herself more clear, and hoping that maybe her symbol could work even when it wasn't visible, Taylor said, "I don't want to fight because I don't want to hurt you."

" _You_ hurt _me_? Crazy slut. I'm going to tear you apart when I find you!"

Taylor began silently walking in a large circle around the monstrous cape. "Maybe. But you can't find me, can you? I mean, I can see you, but you can't see me. How about instead of fighting, you help me? Help me to understand why you are doing all _this_?"

"What? What the hell are you talking about? Come out so I can rip you to shreds!"

"I don't think so. Why are you doing this? Why hurt people? Why make them fight one another? Is it because you enjoy watching them hurt each other? Are you just a sadist? Is it that simple? Help me to understand."

"Jesus H Christ! Words? Is that all you have? If so, I've already won! After all, it's just a matter of time until I find you!"

With that, Hookwolf began making short rushes in random directions, tearing up the pavement and gouging holes in the walls of the buildings themselves. Thankfully, the two gunshot victims had been taken away by their friends or they would have been torn to shreds. Still, it was a useless tactic to use against her, although Taylor didn't think it was actually intended for _her_. Rather, Hookwolf's actions played to their unseen audience that still lurked there in the shadows, impressing them with how fearsome he was. Two could play that game, she decided.

Conviction dripped from her voice as she said, "I could kill you now. But I don't really want to. I know your followers are still out there, hiding like vermin in the alleys and sewers. You play the tough man for _them_ , but we both know the truth."

Taylor's words seemed to be making brutish Parahuman even more angry and he moved faster and faster, tearing apart a car that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As he shredded the vehicle's body beyond repair and threw the engine block through a wall, Taylor said, "You're _weak_. It's why you have to terrorize others. You don't lead through strength, but rather the fear tactics of a bully writ large. How can you men out there follow this... thing? Have you no self-respect? No sense of your own worth?"

The last few comments were aimed at their audience, rather than Hookwolf, yet it still drove him into a frenzy. He tore apart another derelict car, then tossed yet another all the way across the street to slam into the opposite building. Then he took down one of the street lights, cutting completely through its wooden pole and plunging that end of the street into darkness. The entire time, he cursed and howled his rage and hate.

More and more passion filled Taylor's voice as she spoke, her volume increasing until the words rang from end of the street to the other, "Hating others for the color of their skin is _not_ strength! Terrorizing those weaker than you is _not_ strength! Cruelty and evil is _not_ strength!

"No! Strength is standing up for what is right no matter how hard it may be! Standing up though it cost you everything! Fighting evil with the last breath in your body! Saying that I will not stand aside for you to harm others!"

Hookwolf stopped moving, merely standing in the center of the street, cloaked in darkness. "You speak _words_ , coward. But what are _your_ deeds, weakling? Where's the cemeteries that y _ou've_ filled? When will you pit yourself against me? Or will you continue to hide from me like the craven filth that you are?" Despite his own words, his tone was far less certain than it had been a moment before.

Feeling a sadness that hit her harder than expected, Taylor asked in a much lower voice, "Can I not convince you to put aside your hate? To walk a different path?"

Like a scalded cat, his powerful metallic form jumped and he shouted, "There is no other path for someone like me! I am who and what I am! Face me!"

"So be it."

Taylor allowed herself to become visible again under the light of the one remaining street lamp as she finished her circuit to come to a stop facing the raging Parahuman. There was roughly a hundred feet between the two of them now. She made sure to push back her cloak so that the symbol on her costume was completely visible as she waited for her opponent to react. Hookwolf took one long look at her, then charged forward at her as fast as he could, a kind of desperation filling his movements.

She watched as he closed the distance, pain filling her. What price a man's soul, she wondered bitterly. What price Hookwolf's? Regardless, there had to be an ending. Holding Umrahnuha above her head in both hand, Taylor called down Lightning.

Once. Twice. Thrice. Brilliant flashes tore apart the sky blinding her watchers as the cacophony of steel shattering and tearing echoed between the buildings in a cataclysm of sound and fury.

The tottering wreck that crashed to the ground a handful of feet away from her barely resembled the Parahuman who'd charged Taylor a moment before. So much of what he'd been was gone. Steel blades and hooks were melted and misshapen, and instead of the perfection they'd displayed before, beat against one another in a whining, grating shriek where they moved at all. Others refused to spin, melted and fused into place.

Even as she watched, Hookwolf began to shrink, the broken, interlocking blades receding within him, until all that lay on the street before her was a man, his form steaming slightly, as if he'd been cooked medium rare. She knelt down next to him, removing his wolf's head mask and staring at the still face of a dying human being.

She immediately saw that he wasn't breathing, both her exceptional eyesight and sensitive hearing registering the lack of air moving in and out of his lungs. Placing a gentle hand sans glove on the slack muscles of the mans' bare chest, Taylor's touch noted how his heart was slowing down as if it sensed the inevitable.

Soon, it would stutter to a halt and the man known as Hookwolf would die.

She was aware of the men who were slowly coming out of hiding, creeping like rats out into the light of day as they prepared themselves to flee or follow her. Opportunity lay before Taylor, a chance to make an impression upon them, perhaps pull them from the dark paths they traveled down. If she were to show them the dead body of one of their leaders, many of them would be broken and disheartened, driven to leave Empire 88 for something else. Those men might be saved

Unfortunately, it wasn't an opportunity she could take. That path would remain closed to her for now. Instead, she would choose the harder, far more dangerous path before her.

Rather than allowing him to die, Taylor reached into that well deep within her and pushed Healing into Hookwolf, feeling as his heart woke with a stutter, then thundered a mile a minute. As his lungs filled to bursting with air while the scars upon his body disappeared. Even the tattoos he'd once adorned himself with faded away until nothing of them remained.

Like Tattletale before him, Hookwolf had a malignancy within his head, a foulness that sickened Taylor until she wanted to vomit from the mere awareness of its existence. She did her best to heal that wrongness.

And failed. Even pushing another dose of Healing into Hookwolf wasn't enough to cure him. She just wasn't strong enough.

Staring down into the face of the sleeping man as she knelt at his side, Taylor vowed that one day, she would grow strong enough to crush the pestilence within him. She would cure Hookwolf and those others like him, making them human once more. So she pledged as something vast and terrible seemed to rise from within the staff that she still clutched in her other hand to accept the promise she'd made.

There was almost a ringing sound in the air, something that even the men who'd gathered in a loose semicircle around the two of them seemed to feel by their uneasy stirring. Leaving the man lying amid the detritus of the street, Taylor rose to her feet to face her audience. Later she would think on what her words had stirred up. But for now, she had other concerns.

Slowly, she looked upon them, bitter men who'd lost hope in a better life. They'd grown desperate enough in the day to day struggle of living to pin those hopes on something as dark and terrible as Empire 88. Taylor's gaze pinned each and every man there, seeing the fear and hopelessness in their eyes, while their own seemed irresistibly drawn to the symbol upon her chest.

Finally, in a voice of passion and fire, she cried out, "Choose another path! All of you! You walk in the footsteps of evil, fostering cruelty and hate! You believe yourselves to be strong! Is this strong?"

Deliberately, Taylor placed a foot upon the bare chest of the slumbering man she'd healed. Every single pair of eyes were briefly drawn to her black combat boot resting upon Hookwolf's chest, before being pulled irrevocably back to her symbol. Every face around her struggled with a terrible truth that seemed to be devouring them from within as tears of grief and pain were visible on the faces of more than one man.

Softening her voice just the slightest, Taylor said, "Heed my warning. Consider the paths of your lives and what you would accomplish. Neither this man, nor his master, have the answers you seek. Instead, consider this: What is _Right_? Find the answer to that question and you will find yourself upon a better path. Now, who is badly injured among you?"

For a moment, no one moved. Finally, though, a man half carried another toward her, stopping just a few feet away. Tall and broad-shouldered, his face and torso scarred by innumerable fights, the injured man couldn't really walk, his knee bent sideways, the joint clearly destroyed, its tendons and ligaments ripped and torn as his lower leg flopped loosely.

Despite the fact that he faced the pain he was feeling with complete stoicism, the man still flinched when Taylor reached out and touched his face with slim fingers. She pushed Healing into him and seconds later, he stood tall and straight again, his leg as healthy as the rest of him.

Despite his size and ferocious appearance, made less so now without any scars or tattoos, there was an odd humbleness to the man's voice as he said, "Thank you, Avatar."

Taylor's own voice was equally gentle as she replied, "You're welcome. Who else?"

Two others were helped forward, including one of the men who'd been shot, and she healed them both as well, accepting their thanks in turn. It was only later that Taylor realized that she'd used her healing six times in a row that night, the first time ever that she'd been so strong. Unfortunately, her thoughts were taken up with a completely different matter a moment later.

"Everybody freeze! I don't want anyone leaving the scene until you've answered some questions!"

Turning around, Taylor beheld the sight of two of the Wards stepping forward from the shadows at the mouth of an alley. Aegis, the one who'd ambushed her once before hovered a foot or so in the air, while someone dressed in a formfitting white costume, with clocks and clock hands all over it, stood on the ground beneath him.

Realizing the second cape had to be Clockblocker, Taylor considered their body language and any visible expressions. She felt no sense of danger from either. Deciding that there would be no repeat of the other night, she turned her back to them. Raising her voice slightly, Taylor sternly commanded, "Take this man back to his master."

The first man she'd healed, a look of fear and wonder on his face, asked, "What should we tell him?"

Taylor hesitated. What price escalation, she wondered? However, more importantly, what price could you put on this man's soul? On his hopes for a better future?

Fortune favors the brave seemed to echo within her mind. In a voice that rang like steel upon steel, as passion and fury vied for dominance once more, Taylor shouted, "Tell Kaiser that his days are numbered! The span of days for his Empire's existence in my city is no more than three score! One way or another, by his will or mine, he _will_ leave! Or he will learn the same definition of strength that Hookwolf did!"

Dismayed silence met her words. There was no stir of applause or cheers from the crowd surrounding her. Instead, eyes seemed drawn once more to the symbol on her chest as men stood utterly frozen, sick looks of horror on many of their faces. Oddly, despite the silence, there wasn't anything resembling disbelief in any of the expressions she saw.

Rather, it was as if they understood just how dangerous a decision she'd made, to call out the most powerful Parahuman gang in the city. How serious she was in her intent to do so, as if Umrahnuha's symbol had driven the information into their very beings. For a moment longer, it seemed as if no one around her so much as breathed so still were they. Finally, though, the men around her began to disappear from view in ones and twos, sliding backward into the welcoming darkness.

"Hey! Stop right there! You! Don't you dare move a muscle!" It sounded like Clockblocker had decided to take exception with his 'prisoners' not staying for questioning, she thought in wry amusement.

Turning back to the Wards, Taylor said, "Leave them alone. They've lost their faith and won't be right again until they've found a new path."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Dennis groaned. "Why did they have to get Panacea to heal us? I was enjoying my time away from school and patrol just fine. I finally made it to level thirty in Demon Siege."

Carlos, his teammate for this particular patrol, chuckled. "Maybe because they knew you were enjoying your vacation just a little too much."

Huffing at the other, Dennis muttered, "Fine. Still, you'd think they would give me a patrol partner who was more my speed."

"If by your speed, you must mean slow. Unfortunately, you're fresh outta luck. I'm sorry, Clock, but you're currently the Ward on the roster who most resembles a snail."

"Bah." Despite his words, Dennis chuckled. He wasn't really irritated at going on patrol, or even having Carlos as a partner. Not that he would have minded staying back at HQ and playing video games. Plus, if he did have to patrol, it was nice to do so mucus-free.

The recent flu epidemic had epically sucked. They'd barely gotten back from the Christmas holidays when all of them but Carlos and Sophia had come down with a nasty strain of flu. Dennis had joked that maybe it was Bonesaw's revenge upon the world, something which hadn't gone over too well with the other Wards. Or their handlers in the PRT. Or Director Piggy.

The corpulent woman had come down on him like a ton of bricks, only the fact that he'd already been so sick and Shadow Stalker being in deep shit keeping her from sticking him on console duty for a month straight.

Not that Dennis had been all that worried about the woman's punishment, whatever that punishment was. As sick as he'd been, all he'd been able to do until shortly before being healed was worship at the porcelain throne. So not nearly as much video games as he'd boasted. It also irked the hell out of him that he'd missed seeing Sophia Hess getting tossed out on her ear.

Now that was something he could get behind. "Tell me again, Aegis, what Shadow Stalker did that got herself booted?"

The other boy shook his head. "She wasn't 'booted,' she was transferred."

Grinning, Dennis cackled, "Yeah, to Ellisburg! Nothing says you've screwed up more than babysitting the Goblin King."

"Clockblocker."

"Too much? Okay, I guess I can see that. Although, it's not like I wished for Sophia to get eaten by a goblin or anything-"

"Clock!"

Suddenly, Dennis realized that Carlos calling his name in that tone wasn't because of the inappropriateness of his comments but rather because the other boy had seen something. Now silent, he also heard faint crashing sounds and saw a flash of light in the distance, Dennis ran along as his team leader flew above. Both stopped a minute or so later. Following Carlos to where he hovered just inside the mouth of the alley they were in, he wasn't surprised to hear voices coming from out in the larger street that lay in front of them.

"-paths of your lives and what you would accomplish. Neither this man, nor his master, have the answers you seek. Instead, consider this: What is right? Find the answer to that question and you will find yourself upon a better path. Now, who is badly injured among you?"

Peeking around the corner, he watched someone dressed all in gray heal someone with a crippled leg as another man lay still next to her. However, it wasn't until the big man almost bowed and said, "Thank you, Avatar," that Dennis realized exactly who he was watching.

Holy shit! That was her. Avatar. The girl who was sneaking around hospitals and healing people. Plus, there was supposedly something wonky about her costume. A weird symbol or something. They were definitely supposed to be careful around her. Taking a few steps back, Dennis waited as Carlos alighted next to him.

The other boy looked worried. "I'm pretty sure that was Hookwolf on the ground, unconscious or dead. Call it in. I'm going to continue listening and see if I can figure out what's going on."

Hookwolf? Seriously? Deciding that team leaders got all the fun, Dennis retreated back into the alley before raising his communicator to his lips. "Console, Clockblocker here. We have a ten fourteen at the corner of Baker and Forty-first Street."

Missy's voice replied, "Understood, Clockblocker. Dispatching Protectorate members and PRT troops to your location. Who are the Parahumans involved?"

"One of them is Avatar. Aegis thinks that the other's Hookwolf."

There was alarm in the girl's voice as she said, "Hookwolf's there? Are you both okay?"

"Relax, chica. Hookwolf's taking a siesta. Or he's dead. Avatar apparently took him down already. Uh oh, Aegis needs me. Clockblocker out."

Ignoring the sputtering sounds coming from his communicator, he switched it off. Hurrying over to where Aegis was gesturing as he floated just a few feet above the pavement, Dennis followed him out into the street. Aegis shouted, "Everybody freeze! I don't want anyone leaving the scene until you've answered some questions!"

Uh oh, Dennis thought. He halfway expected all hell to break loose when Carlos made his demand, maybe even the gang bangers from Empire 88 attacking them en mass. But all that happened was that the rough looking gang members who surrounded Avatar in a semicircle looked toward her as if waiting for her to make a decision. She, in turn, glanced back at the two of them, then turned her back to them as if they weren't worth her time.

In a strong voice aimed at the men around her, she said, "Take this man back to his master."

This man? Did she mean Hookwolf, Dennis wondered? There was no way they were letting that murderer get away. But rather than argue, Aegis merely silently floated in place as one of the Empire mooks tentatively asked, "What should we tell him?"

If her voice had been strong before, it could peel paint now, Dennis decided, aghast. In front of him, Avatar shouted, "Tell Kaiser that his days are numbered! The span of days for his Empire's existence in my city is no more than three score! One way or another, by his will or mine, he will leave! Or he'll learn the same definition of strength that Hookwolf did."

Dennis was stunned, both by the girl's words and her sheer chutzpah. She'd just called out the biggest Parahuman gang in the city. Given them a time frame to clear out. Never mind that the time was almost two months away. Kaiser was going to go _berserk_ when he found out. And, as usual, the Protectorate and Wards were going to get stuck trying to keep the peace.

When he noticed the gang members beginning to disappear into the surrounding darkness, Dennis shouted, "Hey! Stop right there!" He pointed to one guy in particular. "You! Don't you dare move a muscle!"

The man in question stopped for a second, staring back at him, then started moving again when Avatar said, "Leave them alone. They've lost their faith and won't be right again until they've found a new path."

What the hell? Faith? Path? Dennis was about to provide the girl a sampling of his infamous wit when Aegis settled to the ground between them and asked in a serious tone, "What do you mean, Avatar? What faith?"

The girl turned to face them fully and Dennis felt himself flinch at just the glimpse of that strange shape upon her tunic he got. Whatever that thing was on her chest, it almost hurt to look at it. Even blinking didn't help,he thought as his eyes watered.

Aegis also seemed to be affected, if less so than he was. Certainly he continued to stand there facing Avatar as she answered his question, although he had flinched momentarily. "They believe that hate and cruelty are the answers to life's question. I have shown them a different path. Now they have to choose. Which choice they make will determine their fates. I fear that some of them will not live out this night. Others..." She shook her head sadly as her voice trailed off.

Okay, wasn't that just a ray of sunshine, Dennis decided, his thoughts feeling almost fuzzy as he couldn't look away from that damn symbol. A moment later, he wondered why he was even here when his dad was so ill.

Avatar said, "Look to your companion, Aegis. I fear that Truth overwhelms him."

His team leader's movement momentarily blocked his view of the symbol. Dennis allowed himself to sink to his knees, holding a hand over his eyes. He shivered, feeling almost feverish and he wondered if his flu had come back. His dad... A moment later, a hand gripped his shoulder, and he groaned at the intensity of the other boy's grasp.

"Damn, Aegis. Don't break me."

The other boy chuckled, then firmly stated, "You're okay." Then, a second later, he exclaimed, "Shit! Where'd she go?"

Dropping his arm and forcing himself to rise to his feet, Dennis surveyed the street. There was no one around as far as the eye could see. Disgusted, he said, "After all that, Avatar got away."

His mind shied away from the direction his thoughts had taken a moment before. Dennis was exactly where he needed to be, helping to make his city a better place. He had to make it a better place, he repeated silently. Anything else would be unthinkable.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Carlos glanced at his teammate as Dennis finished up his verbal report to Miss Militia. It figured that she would be here as the woman never slept. Or seemed to take time off, rivaling Armsmaster in that regard.

Frankly, he was worried about Dennis. Seeing that damn symbol of Avatar's had seemed to hit him really hard. They had decided to give her a Master classification of three to go along with the hodgepodge of other classifications she already had. While she didn't seem to really control anyone, something which he could attest to, Avatar did make you question yourself and the choices you made, leaving yourself vulnerable to being attacked or worse.

His thoughts were pulled back to the other boy as Dennis finished giving his report. Carlos wished he could get his teammate to talk to him, but despite having been in the Wards together for several months now, they really weren't good friends. Come to think of it, he didn't think Dennis had any true friends. Certainly no one he could really talk to about whatever was troubling him.

Maybe, just maybe, he could try to become that friend, Carlos thought. If he could somehow be there for Dennis, maybe help the other boy through whatever crisis seemed to be brewing inside of him, he could make a difference above and beyond going out in brightly colored costumes.

With that decision made, Carlos felt like the world had just been lifted from his shoulders.

"Hey."

Giving his teammate a glance, Carlos asked, "How are you feeling? Okay?"

"Yeah. I'm cool." The shifting gaze, though, gave Dennis away.

"How about we grab a burger before we head back? My treat."

Dennis scuffed one foot on the ground. Looking uncertain, he asked, "Do we really have time? The nearest twenty-four hour place is nearly three miles away."

Carlos chuckled. "You do know I can fly, right?"

Grabbing both of Dennis' hands, he rose into the sky, the other boy dangling beneath him. "Hey! Wait a second! I didn't agree to let you carry me! Put me down! Aeeeegggggissss!"

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor got up a little early the next morning and went for an extra long run. She was still filled with a strange mix of excitement and dread from the night before, crawling like insects along her muscles and nerves. Last night, she'd fought another powerful Parahuman, Hookwolf, and defeated him. She'd even healed him, then sent his healed form, sans the symbols of his allegiance, back to his master, Kaiser, head of Empire 88.

More importantly, she had likely turned men who would have ended up as members of Empire 88 away from a terrible fate and hopefully toward a better one.

Taylor wasn't naïve. She knew that some of those men weren't going to be able to break their ties with the sinister group of racists. Instead, they would allow themselves to be convinced by others, or their own fears, that it was better to stay in the place where they'd always been than to take a chance on doing something else. Of achieving something better.

Unfortunately, she didn't think they would be able to hold out in the long term. Whatever it was that Umrahnuha's symbol was doing to people, it seemed to force them to face the brutal truth about themselves and their choices, no matter how unpalatable that truth might be.

She didn't think that anyone who turned away from that truth would be able to abide by those false choice too much longer. Filled with doubts and fears, she thought that they might just self-destruct, something which would only occur faster if put under any kind of pressure.

Like searching for a Parahuman who insulted their leader, maybe getting into fights with other gangs while doing so, a little voice in the back of her mind seemed to whisper to her.

Maybe. Or maybe in the next clash against the ABB, such a man might hesitate to strike a blow, and end up being struck, perhaps even dying because they were too weak to be able to turn away from the path they were on.

She shivered, suddenly feeling cold. Taylor sped up a little, as much to escape her own thoughts as to warm up. She was really starting to wonder about the gifts she'd been given. Like whether they were really gifts so much, or burdens that affected the people around her.

Still, Taylor only had to look at her dad, or to think of the people whose lives she'd saved in the hospital, to understand that it was just her own fear talking, trying to undermine her determination to be a better person. To save as many of the people around her as she could. To build a better world for everyone to live in.

If that meant going against Kaiser and Empire 88, she'd do so. Not that Taylor believed for even one second that she could beat them in a straight up fight. Despite all of her gifts, they'd wipe the floor her and likely kill her.

No, she would need to careful here. She'd need to plan her campaign like a veteran general and try to take advantage of every single weakness that the other group possessed. Or otherwise, she'd end up as just another statistic, a new cape coming into their powers and being killed within months of obtaining them.

No, she needed knowledge, and she already knew where to obtain that.

Making a decision that after school today, she'd head to the public library and look up books on tactics and strategy, made Taylor feel better. While she understood that not everything could be learned from reading books, there was still valuable insight to be gained there. Plus, if it gave her nothing other than a different way to consider things, it would not be time wasted.

Of course, before she could do so, she had to deal with giving a speech to her new Debate teammates, Mary Anne and Tara. Facetiously, she wondered if they'd accept the same speech she'd given those Empire 88 candidates last night. Deciding that probably wouldn't be a wise thing to do, Taylor put on a burst of speed as she entered the home stretch.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Jim walked up the stairs from the basement that had been his bedroom for the last two years and headed toward the kitchen, ready to face the music.

He'd gotten in too late the night before to talk with his parents about what he'd been doing lately, but he was going to do it before his dad left for work. He just didn't see the point in waiting any longer.

"Good morning, James. Did you sleep well?" his mother asked as she began making him a plate before he even got to the table.

"Martha, let the boy get his own food. You're spoiling him." His dad wasn't nearly as sunny in the mornings as Jim's mom was, likely still feeling the effects of the six pack he'd drank late last night.

His dad asked, "So when did you get home, Jimmy? It wasn't within your curfew, that's for sure."

"No, Dad, it was a later than that. Look, I need to talk to the two of you about something. Something happened to me recently. Something... I don't know if it was good or bad, but it _changed_ things. I..." How to tell them, Jim wondered? How did you tell your parents that you'd almost joined Empire 88, a group of racists and Parahuman monsters, who'd terrorized the city for decades? That the only reason you hadn't been doing your best to kill other human beings last night had been because of a tall skinny teenage girl dressed up in a costume.

His mom immediately asked, "Was it those boys you hang around with? I just _knew_ that Mike Bowers was trouble. I just knew it!"

"Martha, let the boy speak. Jimmy... Jim, what's going on?"

For the first time in a very long time, his dad was looking at him with something other than disappointment. There was an awareness in his eyes, as if he could read between the lines of what his son had said and knew there was a great deal more. That awareness, couple with the clear concern that shone in his eyes seemed to give Jim strength and he slowly began to explain.

Over the next few hours, there was a great deal of yelling and screaming, of tears and remonstrances, but at the end of it, Jim no longer had any doubts that his parents loved him dearly. He just hoped it was enough to weather the storm that was coming.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Max Anders paced in his office, careful to let none of the fury and frustration currently filling him to show in his expression. After all, control was one of the things that made someone a man.

It was one of the hardest lessons that Max had learned from his father before the man had died. But learn it he had, by fist and belt, and later more grievous techniques. He'd learned to control himself under any and all circumstances, not even allowing a shred of the grief he felt cross his face as the man's casket was lowered to the ground that cold November day.

He'd maintained control when his first wife had been killed by members of the Teeth, her body shredded by the flesh destroying power of the Butcher. He'd never been able to get his revenge there, not wanting to become the latest iteration of the dreaded cape. Still, he had maintained control despite that and had watched her buried less than two years after his own father.

Max had maintained control despite his disappointment in his sad sack of a son, Theo, who he already knew would never amount to anything. If the boy even ended up triggering, it would likely be with a useless power that suited his useless self.

Control had been maintained through a host of difficulties through the years, ranging from attempts to undermine his leadership and replace him, to personal losses as well as triumphs that had sent him spiraling into the depths as well as raising him up into the heights.

Today, he would also maintain control, despite the news he'd been given that morning by the man who'd died shortly after.

Max didn't consider the death of the bearer of ill news a loss in control. He felt nothing for the Empire soldier one way or another. But an example had to be made. An answer to the gauntlet that had been thrown into the face of his Empire. Into his own face. Such challenges must be met with blood and sacrifice, the primeval powers fed so that victory could be attained.

Not that Max truly believed that rubbish, but too many of his rank and file did, even some of the Parahuman members of his Empire being hopelessly superstitious. So he had made the gesture, despite the weakness of the opposition. After all, his Empire, and he personally, had been called out by a Parahuman who, as far as he could discover, had been active less than a week.

Despite the inexperience of his newest foe, Max did not plan to underestimate the other. After all, it was careful planning that had raised Empire 88 to heights that Allfather, his father and the leader before him, could only dream of. Max ruled a significant portion of the city around him, and if it wasn't quite as much as he would like, he could blame that on factors that required extremely long range planning.

After all, even dragons could eventually be killed if the hunters were patient and careful enough to set their traps properly.

But for now, Lung was not his focus. Tomorrow, or the next day, he would be once again. But for today at least, Max's thoughts lay on a far different cape, one that was known as Avatar. That cape would die soon, and he would use her blood and death to further his Empire, as he'd used that of so many before her.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Greg's hands shook as he typed on the keyboard in front of him. He'd stayed home from school today, despite having homework that was due, as well as a test, because he needed, more than anything else, to keep up with the thread he was following on PHO.

He was just so very, very glad that he hadn't done something else to cause him to be temporarily banned from the board, as he'd done so many times before. Now he was going to reap his reward.

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 **Topic: Avatar  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay ►Independents **

**► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

I've watched the video countless times now and I'm no closer to figuring out how the hell she was able to actually get on top of Hookwolf without being torn to shreds than before. Seriously, I'm stumped.

Then, of course, the small matter of her being some kind of amazing healer just makes it all that much better. Not only did she heal Hookwolf after him getting hit three times by her lightning, but she fixed up that one guy's leg, that guy who got shot, and the one missing three fingers from his right hand.

If there's anyone on this board who hasn't seen the video of Avatar taking down Hookwolf of Empire 88 last night, it's **here**. I know that the other links are already buried a couple of hundred pages back. Thanks again to the anonymous person who posted it on TubeView. I think.

 **► Gretel**

Posted on January 19, 2011:

That was the sickest thing I've ever seen. How the hell was Avatar able to stand on all of those blades? Maybe she has a forcefield that protects her from damage, too.

 **► WhedonRipperFan**

 **Posted on January 19, 2011:**

 **Bagrat** I don't see how we're going to really figure out any of that unless the PRT issues some kind of press release, OR Avatar gets on here and talks to us. Of course, there must be a thousand questions she's been asked on the previous pages.

 **► BigDaddy47**

Posted on January 19, 2011:

I swear that it's like she was speaking in front of a pulpit. God is behind her! You can SEE GOD standing behind her!

 **User received a ten day suspension for this post: 1) Let's keep the crazy to a minimum, please.**

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

 **WhedonRipperFan** I don't necessarily trust the public mouth pieces of the PRT. They're going to put a spin things. It would be nice if Avatar got back on here, but what are the odds, really?

My sources in the PRT tell me that Avatar's been responsible for healing people in two different hospitals over in Brockton Bay. They still have the people she's healed under 72 hour quarantine until they know for sure that they won't have side effects. You can't get any closer to a hero than Avatar's actions and her words.

I'm not trying to create even more controversy, but my sources in the PRT also tell me that there is supposedly a symbol on her chest that is affecting people. I didn't see one in the video, but supposedly it doesn't show up digitally. You can see evidence in the way the gang members act around her, and later those two Wards, that _something_ affected them.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

Avatar is a hero, I just know it. She's healing people, she's saving lives, she's stopping fights, and she's taking down villains. It's wonderful. I don't believe that she'd do something to hurt anyone.

 **► All_Die_Now**

 **Posted on January 19, 2011:**

The end is coming. You can know this by the number of the beast that is upon the deceiver's body. 666! It is marked! It is- **post edited for content.**

 **User received a ban for this post: 1) I meant what I said about the crazy. Inciting panic is not acceptable.**

 **► Miraclemic**

 **Posted on January 19, 2011:**

This thread is attracting every lunatic around the country and most of those overseas. Joy.

 **XxVoid_CowboyxX** That was slightly less manic than your usual posts. Good job.

 **Bagrat** Are you serious about the symbol? Because that would be huge. I don't think it's nearly enough to get her a kill order, but she might get arrested and Birdcaged if she's using some kind of broad area of effect mind control. Healing or no healing, that's some scary ass shit.

 **► Arthur's_Chalice**

 **Posted on January 19, 2011:**

I don't know what all of the fuss is about. Clearly Avatar is what she pretends to be: She's the mortal form of a god or goddess who is here upon earth doing right. Even her powers fit the theme. Shame on all of you for not giving her your devotion and your worship. I know I am.

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 **Topic: Avatar  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay ►Independents **

**► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

 **Miraclemic** Deadly serious. I get what you're saying about her powers being potentially dangerous. However, I have it on good authority that it's less about mind control than that it pushes you towards making some kind of decision over things in your life.

I don't pretend to have all of the answers and until there's more known about Avatar, there's no way to figure out what's going on.

 **► Avatar2011**  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

I'm sorry, everyone, but I haven't had a chance to read any of your posts or consider your questions. I never imagined that what I chose to do last night would cause so much controversy and make this thread so crazy. I do want to say a couple of things before I log off.

First, yes, I can heal. I went to the hospitals that have traditionally have seen little of Panacea and tried to help people there. My healing does not have any side effects whatsoever.

To the PRT, please let those I've healed go so that they can return to be with their families and friends.

My symbol isn't mind control. At least, I don't think so. However, it does force someone to make a choice, whether to face the truth, no matter how painful that can be, or to just continue to hide your head in the sand and believe the lies and fantasies those in power tell us.

To everyone out there, I believe that this will be my last post for a while. It appears that things are going to get worse before they get better. But don't lose hope. Remember, believing in a better future and working toward that same thing is not the same as being delusional or an idiot. It actually means that you're a good person who wants to see a better tomorrow for your, and everyone else's, children.

Good bye, everyone. For now.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

 **Avatar2011** Noooooo! Avatar please come back! We need you! I need you! Come back to me!

 **► Loki's_Fang**  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

Lying scum! You besmirch the precious name of our leader, Kaiser, while pretending to be a good person. You will burn in hell, bitch!

 **User received a ban for this post: 1) I meant what I said about the crazy. Add racist rants and threats to that as well. Post with care, everyone. Zero tolerance from here on out.**

 **► WhiteTiger22**  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

I'm glad she took the damn Nazis down. They've been making our city miserable for ages. The PRT won't, or can't, do anything about it. Go, Avatar!

 **► Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on January 19, 2011:

That was more than I expected to get from Avatar. Healer, fighter, bringer of lightning. I guess we can add orator to the list of her abilities as well. I'll be keeping an eye on the thread and an ear out for more actual facts. I'll post more when I find out something solid.

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There was a chill that raced down Greg's spine as he realized the events that were taking place in his city. He'd never felt so alive as he did at that moment.

He'd watched the video that one of the men had recorded of the fight and the events afterward more than a dozen times. The way she'd moved and fought, plus the things she'd said...

Not only had Avatar beaten Hookwolf, one of the most powerful capes in Empire 88, but she'd told their leader, Kaiser to leave Brockton Bay. She'd threatened him with the same fate as Hookwolf, basically becoming her bitch. It was freaking awesome.

He hoped that Avatar didn't disappear from sight completely. He'd been more than half in love with the mysterious cape ever since she'd first posted a photograph of herself in her costume. He was going to miss her something terrible if she had to lay low for a while because of the damn Nazis.

Not even thinking about it, he whispered a brief prayer for Avatar's safety. If his words were more to her, than for her, what was the harm in that?

~~~~ATotD~~~~

With a heavy heart, Taylor logged off of PHO just before the end of class. It had been a calculated risk even logging in from the school's server in the first place, but she'd used several tricks she'd learned recently to route herself through a few different ISP's before logging in. Fixing those to return her computer and browser back to normal, she pondered some of the things she'd read.

While she hadn't exactly lied in her post, Taylor had taken the time to read a couple of hundred posts, half of those posted before last night's confrontation, the other half afterward. She'd quickly realized that there was a strong dichotomy to the two time frame's subjects.

Those from before the confrontation were mostly fluff posts, more about her likes and dislikes than about her actions. They were mostly harmless even if some of the questions were disturbingly personal. After all, _no one_ needed to know her skin care regimen. Those posted after the fight with Hookwolf...

To say that she stirred up strong feelings in the people who posted wasn't an exaggeration. Many of those feelings were undeniably positive and were reflected in the things they wrote. Praising her. Telling her that she'd done the right thing to fight Hookwolf and call out Kaiser. Unfortunately, the flip side of the coin was that many of those whose feelings were far less positive about her also wrote the things they felt in their posts.

Taylor was too smart to allow herself to be brought low by what a few people wrote about her. Not even one of the posters, neither those who wrote positives things about her, nor those who lambasted her, knew her in a personal way.

They didn't know her hopes and dreams, fears or aspirations, or ultimately what she wanted to achieve with her life. They didn't know _her_.

Because of that, they were unable to judge her motivations in any form. All of those posts, Taylor simply dismissed as unimportant, attacks by small-minded people who needed to pull everyone and everything down to their level so they no longer felt the shadows of those smarter and better looming over them. It was an all too human thing to do.

Even those posts that were mostly positive weren't important for exactly the same reasons. She just couldn't take someone serious who praised her because 'Nazis are bad, so you taking them down makes you a good person.' It was too akin the empty praise a parent gives a toddler when it was really too young to understand the difference.

It wasn't either of those types of posts that disturbed Taylor, gotten under her skin. Instead, it was thoughtful, well written posts of people who actually considered her actions, not in the light of whether or not her foes were heinous, but rather on the potential consequences of her actions for harm or help in the great scheme of things.

One post had asked if her actions would destabilize the delicate balance of power that the gangs had established within Brockton Bay, leading to greater violence breaking out in non-gang areas. Another, if using whatever power her costume lent her against others, for any reason, could be excused. There were quite a lot of hard questions from people who weren't just reactionary nut jobs and it made her question herself.

Was what she was doing here the right thing? Helping people was one thing, but as soon as she crossed the line into confrontations with villains, especially on the scale of Empire 88 or the ABB, Taylor was risking more than just her own life. Any fight between her and those villains risked the lives of those around her, as did the actions they might potentially take in reaction to her own.

Still, every time she thought about it, a quote from a great American came to mind. Benjamin Franklin had said all the way back in 1776 that "Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety. " While Frankline hadn't been talking about her exact situation when he'd made his famous quote, instead referring to taxation, Taylor rather suspected that if he were transported forward in time and saw what was going on in Brockton Bay, he _would_ say the same thing again.

It was something to think about.

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Danny greeted Ken Stasney as the man finally arrived, getting out of his pick up and making his way toward where he was eating his lunch outside the Dockworkers Union.

Swallowing a bite from his sandwich, he asked, "Ken. How are you doing? Did you get everything worked out with that personal matter?"

The tall, red-haired man, his fair coloring that of the Irish whom he was descended from, nodded. "Yeah, Danny, I did. I'm sorry to put you in that position."

Shrugging, he said, "It's not a problem. I don't think the city's going to complain about a half day's delay in the erection of their fancy new railing in front of City Hall."

"Maybe not." Ken sighed, then looked away. A moment later, he took a bag of chewing tobacco out of his right front pocket and loaded a large piece into his cheek. He set to chewing it slowly as he stood there.

Danny waited, as the man seemed ready to expound upon why he'd needed to take the morning off of the welding job he'd gotten him. A moment later, his patience was rewarded.

"Danny, you've got a kid, don't you?"

Puzzled by the segue, Danny nodded. "A daughter named Taylor. She's fifteen and a sophomore at Winslow High."

" _Winslow._ " The other man spat out the word, like it tasted foul in his mouth. Then he spat out something else in the form of a stream of brown liquid from the chewing tobacco in his cheek. Having done so, he continued, "That fucking school's the _problem_. It's gotten my boy, Jimmy, who goes there, in heaps of trouble."

Alarm bells began to ring in Danny's head as he registered the other man's expression. Taking Ken by the arm, he pulled him toward his office. "Maybe you should sit down and tell me what the problem is with Winslow."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Taylor had managed to complete Mary Anne and Tara's assignment during her final class' study time as she'd already done all of the reading for it ahead of time. The speech they'd wanted from her was over veganism and the tenets behind it.

"You're kidding, right?"

Mary Anne gave her a sympathetic look. "Not a big vegan I take it?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Not a vegan at all. All those protesters with their banners for animal rights... pretty much the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I mean, I'm not for hurting animals, or even for allowing them to become extinct. But the idea that we shouldn't eat meat at all because of some 'moral high ground'? Seriously idiotic. How can anyone buy into that stuff?"

Unfortunately, Tara was a bit less sympathetic. "The same reason people worship Endbringers. In a word: they're morons. Doesn't mean the point won't be brought up for debate at one of the meets. It's on the list of approved subjects. So suck it up and give us your pro viewpoint on it by two."

Cursing the blonde girl, Taylor used the rest of her lunch period and the latter half of her final day's class to do exactly that. Then she gave the speech to her two listeners. And defended it afterward.

Unfortunately, to her it had felt like the speech she made was a little wooden. It was hard for Taylor to get passionate about a subject when she frankly disagreed completely with almost everything it stood for. But she'd done her due diligence on the subject, then defended her viewpoint well enough.

Certainly, she'd managed to do a good enough job arguing on the health and environmental merits alone that the two older girls were more than happy with the result. Taylor wasn't going to have to spend any more lunches working on Speech-related items. However, she was also fairly certain that she would have at least two people to eat with for the foreseeable future, a not unpleasant trade off.

Research at the public library went quickly, if for no other reason than the number of books on strategy and tactics were far fewer than she would have suspected. At least ones that were good. Too many focused on past military battles and how they had been won, but with little emphasis on actual strategy or tactics. So Taylor had stopped looking at most of those types of books.

Instead, she'd focused on simple things like Sun Tzu's The Art of War and Miyamoto Musashi's The Book of Five Rings. Classic books on warfare, she liked what she read in both. Two different books written by Generals from World War II and the Vietnam War respectively that focused on how different tactics and strategies had played their part in those wars, rounded out her research.

The rest of her time she spent focusing on reading the now enormous thread about her alter ego. Logged in only as BrHairGrl95, she read each and every post, making a mental note as to which posters she planned to actually reply to later.

Most of the stuff on there had been utter lunacy, as the more reasonable posters had decided to stay away from the asylum that the thread had become for at least a little while. Which was fine, Taylor decided. Later, she might even stir the pot through additional posts, using some of the diversion tactics in the books she'd read to make her foes underestimate her. For now, though, she was just going to abide.

Taylor had already decided that she was going out later that night. She'd avoid confrontation for now, allow Kaiser time to consider her words. While she one hundred percent doubted that they would have any effect on the white supremacist's opinions, maybe if he got angry enough, he might become careless. Plus, she planned to do a great deal of reconnaissance before she made any real forays against him.

She was actually whistling as she walked down the street from the bus stop. Taylor had already called and left a message on the answering machine in the kitchen for her dad, letting him know that she was on her way home and where she'd been in case he got home before her.

As she walked down the street, she waved at or greeted several different neighbors.

"Hi, Mrs Wineridge."

"Hi, Mr Jones."

"How are you today, Mr Khaled?"

She was still whistling when she jogged up the steps to her front door. Opening it with the house key, Taylor called out, "Hey, Dad, I'm home!"

She'd already seen that his car was there, as well as another truck. Briefly, she wondered if Kurt and Lacey had gotten another truck? A few seconds later, Danny called out from the kitchen, "Taylor, can you come here please?"

Setting her backpack in the floor of the living room, she headed back toward the kitchen. When she walked in, she saw her dad sitting at the kitchen table with two other people. She felt her pulse race as she recognized one of the people sitting there. It was Jim Stasney, the boy from last night, glaring up at her from where he slouched in one of the chairs.

Danny was frowning heavily at her as well. "Sit down, Taylor. I wanted to talk to you about what's been going on. Jim and his father, Ken, have told me a lot of things. I'd like to confirm what they said with you."

~~~~ATotD~~~~

Next Chapter: This Is The Place Justice Made


End file.
